


If Angels Were Men

by manifestingwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DCBB, Dcbb16, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Season 1, Season 2, hunter cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 111,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manifestingwings/pseuds/manifestingwings
Summary: Castiel Novak was raised by a hunting father, but he left that life behind for college and a flower shop. When his father is killed by a demon, Cas jumps back in the game and finds himself constantly running in the presence of the Winchester brothers, who are searching for their own father. They seem to be everywhere he turns, and at some point they become friends, then a team, then, maybe, in the case of Dean Winchester, something more.





	1. Hell Is Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this is my first year doing DCBB, and I’m really excited to be finally posting my story. A big thank you, to my artist, [feredir](http://feredir.tumblr.com/) , whose talent has blown me away. The art for this story is [here](http://feredir.tumblr.com/post/152956707154/if-angels-were-men-dcbb-2016-author) . I hope you all enjoy!

 

Nightmares had a way of rooting into your being and staying with you forever. Castiel Novak had been running from the source of his for eight years now, and still they gripped at him, haunted him through the night. He saw coal-black eyes paired with tormenting smiles and human beings strung up in caves, half their flesh stripped clean from their bones, the other half torn and mangled. During his sleep, Castiel saw all this and more. There was the gentle stream of blood trickling down from the chest cavity of a werewolf victim, no heart in sight. Castiel hadn’t seen any of these things since he’d left for college, but nightmares never let you go. Good dreams were so much more fleeting, slipping away the second you tried to remember them. Castiel supposed that was the great price of having them. They fluttered away as soon as you started looking too hard, holding on too tight. 

Unfortunately, the world did not stop because Castiel was having a bad day after a sleepless night, so he shoved his nightmares into a locked trunk far, far away and got ready for work. He was making an honest living, unlike his father, at a flower shop in New York called  _ Roses Are Red.  _ Castiel liked it. His co workers were pleasant and his manager, Stacy, was chalk-full of random flower facts that Castiel was always interested to hear. 

As Castiel cut stems and rearranged bouquets, he began to think of his father. When was the last time they had talked? Almost a month, surely. Castiel usually checked in on him more often, considering the dangerous and often deadly work he did. Castiel was always the one Daniel Novak had come running to after being hurt on a hunt, navigating the confusing subway system of New York City to reach his son. Castiel figured the bloodstains on his couch were worth the lives that had doubtlessly been saved. His father was one of the best hunters in the business, known and liked throughout the community. He knew his refusal to follow in his footsteps was an insult to his family’s pride, but Castiel couldn’t help but wish for something more. There was a story, a future in every person he met, and hunting ripped most if not all possibilities of friendship and romance away from him. Castiel couldn’t bear that violent life all alone, so he packed up and went to college, his father supporting him in the small ways he was able, despite Castiel’s failures to continue the noble work he’d always done. He supposed it was all for nothing; he was more alone than ever now, away from his father and the strange comforts finding and killing the rot of the Earth brought. 

Castiel was so deep in his thoughts that he did not notice the bell on the door chime, nor did he pay attention to the woman that came through it. In his mind, there were only his thoughts and the flowers surrounding him.  

“I’m looking for a Castiel Novak?” 

There was a police officer standing in the doorway. Castiel was certain he hadn’t done anything illegal lately, so he knew this meant one of two things. They had caught his father, or his apartment was robbed. Stacy shoved him forward sharply, rudely. 

The officer raised her eyebrows. 

“You Castiel Novak?” 

Castiel nodded mutely. 

“Good. Mr. Novak, my name is Officer Jenny Morrison, I’m terribly sorry, but we believe your father is dead and need you to come identify the body.”

Not caught.  _ Dead.  _ Castiel’s knees went out from under him and he reached out blindly for support. He felt like the world under his feet was spinning too fast. His stomach twisted violently and bile rose in his throat. The officer- Jenny- reached out and planted it on his shoulder, steadying him. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled through his teeth.

She laughed. 

“You act like this is the worst reaction I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes turned down pityingly. “I’ve had to pull children out of school to tell them that one of their parents are dead. It’s the worst thing in the world. Are you okay?” 

Castiel nodded and looked up, blinking away tears. He would be. It wasn’t like this possibility hadn’t always sat at the back of his mind.

He stepped outside and Castiel winced at the extra light of the sun. He still felt dizzy. He distracted himself by watching the back of Officer Morrison’s platinum-blonde hair swish, leading him the two blocks to the police station. 

“Can I ask what happened to him?” he asked softly.

Jenny turned, blonde hair flashing in the sunlight, and began to walk backwards. There was virtually no one else on the sidewalk, so Castiel didn’t worry about her bumping into anyone. 

“They found him at about 11 o’clock this morning in a motel in Scarsdale, evident signs of torture. We believe he died of blood loss.”

This was no ordinary death. Jenny knew it, and Castiel knew it like the back of his hand. Now he knew for sure that his father was dead. He practically didn’t even need to go to the station. It was very unlikely that someone who happened to look very much like his father had somehow been tangled in supernatural affairs, especially so close to Castiel himself. He didn’t believe in coincidences, couldn’t afford to. 

He tried to hide the despair on his face but failed, and Jenny reached out for him once more, planting a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s going to be okay, kid. Were you two close?”

Castiel wasn’t sure how to answer that. 

When he was born, his birth mother had called Daniel Novak to break the news to him that he had a son. When she refused to raise him, Daniel took him and raised him away from hunting for a few years, in a small house that Castiel’s great-grandfather had built and used as a homebase for keeping weapons and hunting books. Daniel returned to the life after Castiel proved to be able to take care of himself well enough, but his father was home every night, to feed him dinner and tuck him into bed. He was never left alone for more than two days, and that was only in extreme circumstances. 

Perhaps it was lonely, but Castiel had never felt terribly sorry for himself. He had had everything he’d truly needed. He knew he had been luckier than most, to have had a home and been taken care of fairly regularly. Quite honestly, he would have chosen his own position as the homebound child over his father’s as the nomadic killer.

Castiel himself had started actually hunting when he was 13 years old, and he didn’t see much of his childhood home after that. His first kill was a werewolf with red hair (and fur) and brown eyes, on a killing spree, specifically targeting Native Americans. Castiel would never forget the look in his eyes when he was shot by a 14-year-old, like he would be back and Castiel was his next target. But Castiel would also never forget the way the tiny little girl he had saved launched herself into his arms, singing his praises. Although he quickly learned that hardly anyone said thank you. He was under no illusions that hunting was simple, but he knew if it weren’t for Castiel’s help, his father would have been long gone. 

The first time Castiel saved his father’s life was six months into his hunting career, when the older man had been taken, dragged away by a wendigo in the heart of the Sierra Nevada. Castiel followed the trail of his father’s blood and destroyed the beast with flames. Unfortunately, they were too late to save any of its other recent victims, but at least they had cut it off before anyone else could be hurt. 

Daniel Novak had lived by a code of conduct, so to speak, and he expected Castiel to follow it as well. They hunted because it was right, not for glory or revenge. Saving the victims always came before eliminating the the monster. If there was ever an option to spare the monster, take it.

When Castiel left for college, his father was proud and accepting, despite the fact that he was breaking this code. They stayed in touch, and Castiel gave his father help where it was needed, but were they close? Neither of them had had anyone else, so if they weren’t, Castiel would indeed be living a very sad life.

He thought, then, of all their good times, the times unmarred by blood or gore or nightmares. His father had never abandoned him, though he could have easily given him up to child services. He hung his childhood art on the fridge. He read him stories and listened to his small-minded rants. His father taught him how to walk, to read, to fight, to hunt. There was never a moment Castiel hadn’t been able to count on his father, even if it was his father who needed to count on Castiel.

“Yes,” he choked out. “I- yes. We were.”

Jenny nodded. Castiel looked at the ground, counting the cracks he stepped on.  _ 1, 2, 3, 4... _

“You were listed as next-of-kin, but was he married? Is there anyone else we need to call?”

Castiel just shook his head. If Daniel’s death was what he suspected, then he wouldn’t get the police involved any more than they already were. He would contact other hunters, see what they knew.

But couldn’t he do the job just as well? Sure, he was out of practice, but once upon a time he and his father had been extremely successful hunters. He could solve the case of his father’s murder on his own. 

As he would be doing everything from now on.

They arrived at the police station and Jenny led him into the morgue. Just before they entered the room with the all-too familiar wall of silver, Jenny stopped him. “This is pretty traumatic for most people. Are you sure you're going to be okay?”

Castiel nodded wordlessly. Despair was coursing through his veins, pushing at his heart. He was a child again, alone in the woods because his father had been taken from him. ‘Okay’ was relative.

Jenny’s eyes flicked over his face briefly, then pushed open the glass door. Castiel felt as if he were going to be sick to his stomach. He’d been inside a great number of morgues, but this, of course, was entirely different. Today he was Castiel, and the victim his father.

“Come on in, then.” 

Castiel breathed deeply and followed her in. He tried to assimilate to the hunting mindset, but his breaths came too quickly and tears swam in his eyes. 

When the body was revealed, it was all Castiel could no not to fall to the floor, screaming. There were scars criss-crossing his father’s face like a checkerboard, his arms engraved with words in Latin that Castiel recognized as if they were his own name.  _ Exorcizamus te omnis immundus spiritus…  _

Demons. Only demons would have the gall to do this, mark their victim with their own weakness. Only a demon could be this cruel, this torturous. Ice flooded Castiel’s body, replacing his blood, freezing all rational thought. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry at the unfairness of this, the very hellbeasts his father had held at bay, not just for his own sake but for the world’s, had cut him down. The exorcism swam before Castiel’s eyes. Those words could have been his father’s salvation, and they were  _ mocking  _ him, mocking every victim who had had something to say but couldn’t because-

“I’m guessing his tongue was cut out,” he managed, his voice deadpan.

Jenny looked concerned. Castiel realized too late that this reaction to seeing one’s dead father was atypical. “Yes. How did you know?”

_ Because otherwise he would have exorcised the demon,  _ Castiel thought, but he kept that to himself. Instead, he shrugged. 

Castiel let his eyes travel over the rest of the markings: on his thighs, his arms, his stomach, his chest. Suddenly he saw something so large and obvious that it was embarrassing Castiel had missed it. His blood ran cold once more and his knees began to buckle, but he took a deep breath and a step back.

Jenny nodded slowly, as if in understanding, as if she had been waiting for Castiel to see what he had missed.

“Okay, then. We have a few questions to ask you.”

Castiel heard himself agree, but he was mainly focused on the largest cuts into his father’s skin, etched across his chest - seven letters. 

_ C-A-S-T-I-E-L. _

+++*+++

 

“What did your father do for a living?” Castiel was seated in the uncomfortable chairs of the interrogation room, Jenny and her partner, Mason, across from him. He was staring blankly at the table, digging into the rubbery side of it with his fingernails. 

Castiel shrugged, staring blankly at the table, his hands. His voice shook when he spoke. “Many things. Illegal things. Credit card fraud, stealing, tax evasion.”

Jenny nodded like she wasn’t all that surprised, but Mason looked affronted. 

“He was a criminal?”

Castiel looked up to see Mason’s face had turned beet red with anger. 

“Yes.”

“And you never reported him? That’s-”

It was Castiel’s turn to be angry. 

“He was my father. Forgive me if I wasn’t keen on betraying him to law enforcement of any kind, but it hardly matters now. Also, considering the fact that he has a police record longer than my forearm, I hardly deemed it necessary to tell them something they already knew.”

Mason’s face turned a wonderful shade of crimson before Jenny coughed to bring his attention back to the interrogation. “Where did he live?”

Castiel hesitated on that one. They couldn’t take away his house, could they? 

“We travelled a lot, but we had a house where we lived full-time until I was 13, and then we were almost permanently on the road. The house was built by his grandfather and has been in the family ever since, but it’s been empty for years, as far as I know.”

“Okay. That brings me to my next question: Did he have a will?”

Daniel had mailed his will to his son when he was in his second year of college, after a near-death experience. Castiel had never looked at it or read it, but he knew that most if not all of his father’s possessions would go to him. 

“Yes. I have it in my apartment.”

“If you would bring that to the police station within three days, we will certainly verify that. Did your father have any enemies?”

At that, Castiel actually laughed, bitterly. “Too many to count.”

Again, Jenny was unsurprised. 

“Anyone that would be capable of… this?”

Castiel sighed. “Yes, many, but I can’t name them. I don’t even know for sure what they look like.” It was, technically, the truth. 

Jenny and Mason traded a look, like they suspected that Castiel was holding something back. 

“Are you sure? If you're afraid of them, it’s okay Castiel, they won’t get to you. We won’t let them.”

Castiel was almost certain there was absolutely nothing they could do against demons, but he didn’t say that. 

“He was in many fights, against men that were worse criminals than he was.”

Jenny narrowed her eyes but didn’t press the question further. “Anything else you would like to add?”

There were a million things Castiel could say about his father, but these people would never listen to the good things he had done. They wouldn’t care, either. He was dead. But Castiel said something anyway. “He was not a bad person, despite his crimes.”

Jenny reached out and patted him on the hand and even Mason looked sympathetic. Castiel took a deep breath and left the building, his only real human connection staying behind, rotting in a mortuary.

 

+++*+++

 

Castiel stared at his hands, no real thoughts in his mind. The wind howled around him, the storm tearing at the trees in Central Park and leaving his hair a tangled mess. He couldn’t bring himself to care, though, even as the rain started to pour heavily, soaking him immediately. 

His father was dead.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected this at some point or another. There was always the nagging fear when Daniel called to tell him about a hunt, every time Castiel had to take care of his injuries, but the reality of it was so intense and suffocating that at 3am, unable to sleep, he had hiked to Central Park with a storm brewing overhead.

It wasn’t much better than his apartment. He was cold, and tired, and the air was moving much too quickly for him to take any deep breaths. Castiel sighed, tipping his head back against the bench he had chosen, right under large oak, to let the rainwater run into his mouth, pound against his eyes, plaster his hair to his forehead. The skies seemed to echo Castiel’s pain, his despair, and for the first time since Officer Morrison had told him his father was dead, Castiel truly cried. He drew his knees to his chest and buried his face in them, letting the sobs wrack his body. He felt so completely alone that he began to wonder for what he was even living.

Except.

Demons were no small matter, and if his father had been killed by one, it meant that it was still on the loose, senselessly murdering other people, other hunters. The demon had to be stopped, Daniel Novak’s murder avenged. 

Who better than his own son to do it? It was a decision driven by grief and fear and lack of sleep, but Castiel knew he would never regret it, somewhere deep in his bones. 

Choice made, Castiel stood up from his bench, ready to go home and dry off. The rain had seeped into every article of Castiel’s clothing, and his socks were very uncomfortable. He took shuddering breaths as his tears stopped flowing, his chest heaving.

“Are you okay?”

Castiel whirled, almost knocking over a young girl, around college age. Her hazel eyes were wide and her red hair was frizzy and curled under her umbrella. For a moment, he considered questioning why she was walking in the rain at such an early hour before he remembered that, he, too, was wandering around the park at 3 a.m. Castiel took a step back, playing at nonchalant. 

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. 

“Really? Because you're walking around Central Park in the middle of a thunderstorm, crying. I wouldn’t do that if I was okay. Bad breakup?”

When Castiel started walking, the girl followed him, twirling her umbrella handle through her fingers. He sighed. 

“My father just died.”

The girl winced slightly, and her hazel eyes turned mournful. “Damn. I’m sorry. My folks died about 9 years ago. Car crash.” 

The girl looked incredibly sad and incredibly guilty before trading it for her earlier mask of concern. 

“What happened to him?”

Castiel gritted his teeth. 

“He was  _ murdered. _ ”

The girl gasped. 

“Holy shit, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” 

And Castiel was truly grateful for her presence; it felt good to talk to someone, tell someone the truth about something. 

“My name is Charlie, by the way. Charlie Bradbury.”

“Castiel.”

Charlie looked hesitant for a moment before plucking up the courage to ask, “Hey, I know this is random and probably  _ really  _ creepy, but I bet I live closer to here than you do, and I totally get if you don’t want to be alone right now.” The girl’s eyes widened as Castiel opened his mouth to answer. “Shit! I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

Castiel frowned. 

“Like what? I don’t understand.”

Charlie looked at him blankly for a moment before blushing furiously and looking away. 

“Nevermind.”

The conversation died out awkwardly before Castiel muttered, barely loud enough to be heard above the storm, “I don’t wish to return home tonight.”

Charlie nodded slowly at him, like she totally got that, too. 

“Then you don’t have to.”

 

+++*+++

 

Charlie’s apartment was small but welcoming, and not a place to where one invited strangers for murdering purposes. Not that the small girl could overtake Castiel’s hunting instincts or skills, but still, it was nice to feel like he could relax, for a minute. Charlie brought him a towel to sit on and another one to dry his hair. 

“And, um, I might be able to find some clothes for you to change into.” When Castiel gave her a confused look, she quickly amended, “Not mine, of course, ‘cuz you're like a foot taller than me, but I used to steal my old roommate’s clothes and people have left stuff here and I’m gonna go look for that, be right back.”

Castiel smiled slightly at Charlie’s blushing and stammering. He got the feeling that she wasn’t used to finding crying strangers in Central Park, and even less used to inviting them home at 4 o’clock in the morning. She came back with sweatpants that were too tight and a hoodie that was way too big. Charlie draped a blanket around his shoulders and brought him a cup of hot chocolate.

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something so nice for him.

Charlie settled next to him on the couch, changed into her pajamas but still sporting a tangled, wet, mess on her head. They didn’t talk, but the silence wasn’t awkward. After both had finished their hot chocolate, Charlie turned to her guest. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Castiel’s immediate reaction was  _ no,  _ but something about the genuine concern on Charlie’s face stopped him from answering right away. Did he need to talk about it, maybe? His father had always told him that you could never make something stop hurting by putting it in a cage. Still, he hesitated. He knew, obviously, that he couldn’t give Charlie the truth, but it wasn’t like his entire relationship with his father had revolved around hunting. How much could he reveal? 

“I… do you find talking about things that hurt you helps?”

Charlie shrugged. “I mean, I’m no shrink, but most people say that, right? Talking about it helps?”

Castiel frowned. “I suppose.”

Charlie nudged him with her foot. “C’mon, spill. You’ve got a sob story somewhere in there.”

Castiel sighed, and he ‘spilled.’ 

“My father was the only person I had in my life, for my entire life. My mother didn’t want me, so she after I was born she found my father and he left his job to raise me for the first few years of my life. When I started school, he went back to work, but he was home every night and got me to the school bus every morning. When I was 13, we started travelling for his work; I still went to school, but my attendance was abysmal. Then I went to college, at NYU. We stayed in touch, even though I knew my father had always wanted me to follow in his footsteps, carry on the family business. If he ever needed help, I was there for him, and he for me.” 

Castiel paused, his eyes glued to the rather offensive pink and yellow carpet. The sun was creeping in through the windows, streaking Charlie’s hair gold and beaming into Castiel’s eyes. The events of the day turned over in his mind, and he once again felt sick remembering Stacy shoving him forward, Jenny telling him he had to identify a body, his father, scars littering his body and leaving a message, for Castiel, for Daniel, for hunters everywhere. He took a shuddering breath. He tried to believe that if he got through his story, he would feel better, but halfway through his recount of the day and seeing his father, mangled and broken, tears were once more streaming down his face. Charlie placed a comforting hand on his knee, her skin warm, and the touch shocked Castiel. Many, if not most people, believed the worst of the entire human race, but even if there were murderers and demons in the world, the act of kindness to a stranger was one thing that kept Castiel’s metaphorical glass half-full. 

“I’m so sorry, Castiel. That- that’s awful. I can’t even imagine seeing my father like that.” Charlie looked away, pain written across her face. Castiel suddenly remembered that Charlie, too, was a young orphan. 

He cleared his throat. 

“How did you get over your parents’ deaths?”

The redhead looked up in shock and Castiel worried he had overstepped his bounds when she sighed, shoulders sagging. 

“In no healthy way. I’m technically a felon, but I don’t let that hold me back.” She tried for a smile but failed. “I know it’s cliche, but time was the real healer, to be honest. If you let something like that bother you for more than a few years, you’ve got issues. Everyone loses people, it’s just a fact. I miss them a lot, but I can’t live life angry and sorry for myself, now can I?” 

Charlie’s smile was real now, and Castiel couldn’t help but return it. Charlie was such a bubbly, happy, nice person that her mood couldn’t help but spread.

He left Charlie’s apartment around 10, when the rain let up. He didn’t suspect he would ever see her again, but it would be a long time before he forgot the girl who made him smile when all he felt was pain. 

 

+++*+++

 

Castiel’s apartment was stripped of anything that could lead the authorities to hunting or Castiel himself. He had sold most everything he owned but several pairs of clothes, his wallet, some blankets and pillows, and his phone, but even that he would be throwing away as soon as he found another. He would take no chances. As soon as he received his last paycheck, Castiel was on the first plane out of New York, with no intentions of going back anytime soon. His father had died there, been cremated there, and he knew that the demon who had murdered him was long gone by now. 

But where Castiel was going, he had no idea. Somewhere. Anywhere. He would sit and wait, watch for any and all signs of demonic activity. Research, watch, wait, cry, maybe sleep, those were Castiel’s plans, but he didn’t know where to carry them out, which maybe he should have thought of before taking off to any random place in the country. He didn’t really know where this plane was headed, as he had paid very little attention to himself or his surroundings lately. He was sure he looked abysmal. 

When the plane landed, Castiel could see the mountains, and recognized them immediately. They were the Colorado mountains, the Rockies, one of his favorite places on the planet. He had not returned to Denver since he had left, 13 years ago, but it still felt like he fit, like the city was his and he was its. He had not thought of going to his childhood home, but it seemed fate was telling him something, and he was inclined to listen to it. 

Stepping through the door of what had been his home for half his life was like walking forward in time and backward at the same time. Everything looked exactly the same; the pictures on the wall, the couch, the table, the logs by the fire, yet everything was covered in layer upon layer of dust. Castiel couldn’t take two steps without coughing. Looking around the room, his chest ached with memories, his earliest being watching his father field strip his guns. He was properly taught how to do it himself when he was 10 years old, but when he was very young he just sat and watched. Once, when he was around 7, he had come home from school and realized that there was no meal prepared for him that he could just heat in the microwave, so he had tried his hand at macaroni and cheese, which had ended disastrously. His father had come home to find Castiel covered in cheese dust with macaroni in his hair and stuck to his cheeks, crying. Daniel had just laughed and cleaned him up. They’d ordered pizza that night, and Castiel had been eating the leftovers for days. 

Castiel ran his finger along the top of the couch, revealing even more dust. He sighed, and even that sent dust swirling. Something would have to be done about this. 

Castiel spent the next week cleaning - he threw himself into it, working to the point of exhaustion so he would have no distractions, no lonely and depressed thoughts. It was simple and easy and he didn’t have to think about anything serious, anything real. 

Soon enough, Castiel’s childhood home was looking next to new. Even his father’s old room, which Castiel supposed was his now, as was everything else in the house. His old bedroom was empty, the bed stripped down and the bookshelves empty. Castiel would leave it for… the future. He didn’t have any immediate plans for a family, but anything could happen. 

Castiel wasn’t stupid, though. More often than not, hunters lived alone and died alone. Exhausted, Castiel collapsed into bed and was asleep instantly for the 7th night in a row, his cleaning having taken a lot out of him. This time, though, this night, exhaustion could not keep the nightmares away. 

 

+++*+++

 

The world was painted black, smoke swirling through the air, and Castiel walked alone. Buildings, grand cathedrals, loomed over him, and the angels in the stained glass windows seemed to sneer at him, their glorious wings twisted and gruesome. When he looked behind him, his path was marked with bloody footprints and ruined pavement that had been whole when Castiel had stepped on it. What little he could see of the sky was thick clouds tinted red. Trees, completely devoid of any color but the oozing darkness that suffocated everything lunged at him, missing his feet by mere inches. The whispers started when Castiel passed a church made entirely out of black-stained bones. He didn’t recognize the voices, nor could he make out what they were saying, but they were talking to him, he knew. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel was sure he kept seeing something, a shadow, a feather, a flash of hair. He found he couldn’t turn to look at it, only what was before him and the ground beneath his feet. 

Finally something in the landscape changed. A giant, spiraling staircase wound into the sky, like a more convenient version of Jack’s beanstalk. Castiel didn’t even hesitate, just started making his way up. Eventually the whispers stopped reaching him and he reached the top of the staircase and stepped out onto a stormy ink-colored cloud. It rumbled and rolled beneath his feet. Castiel tried to walk forward but stumbled, and tried to go back to the staircase but found it had disappeared. Eventually his feet gave out and he crashed to the ground, through the cloud, screaming, grabbing at the air. 

Finally he heard what the whispers were saying through the wind whistling in his ears.

_ Fly, little angel. _

_ Fly.  _

 

+++*+++

  
  


Not for the first time in his life, Castiel woke in a cold sweat. The memory of the dream was already fading fast, but certain details, the staircase, falling, remained prominent in his mind. He groaned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, stumbling into the kitchen for coffee. There was no possible way he would be able to sleep now. He trudged toward the ancient coffee maker and started brewing, cheek propped up on his hand, elbow digging into the counter. The sun had not yet risen.

Castiel never liked to look into those dreams too much - he was afraid of what they meant. Normal people, healthy people - they didn’t have nightmares like that. Then again, Castiel supposed healthy people didn’t really have nightmares at all, but even regular people whose lives were potentially as much a mess as his was didn’t have nightmares like that. If they fell, they fell, no whispers, no painted angels sneering down at him in hatred, disappointment,  _ fear.  _ There was no black ooze dripping, spreading across the ground, not quite falling from the sky as much as pouring from it at the sides. 

People didn’t have dreams like that, because people were rarely like Castiel.

His coffee finished brewing and he drained half his 20 oz mug immediately, not caring about the temperature, though it burned his mouth and throat and he practically breathed steam for a few moments. But like all pain, it faded and Castiel was able to curl up on his couch with a book - on demons - and watch the blood-red sunrise. It was almost peaceful, if not for the fact that what he was reading currently described in vivid detail how demons usually ripped out one’s entrails and what they did with them. It wasn’t like he was going to read anything else. Now that he could walk in his own home without sending up clouds of dust, it was time to begin researching anything and everything on how to avenge his father, however long it took.

 

+++*+++

 

It took a very long time. Castiel left the house once every two weeks to go grocery shopping, but for the most part stayed home. He was becoming restless after nearly two months of non-stop dead-end research, and decided that if he was going to be in shape to track and kill a demon, he would have to either start working out or hunting again.

And seeing as hunting was much less of a waste of time, Castiel soon found himself in St. Louis, crawling through the disgusting sewer system. His shoes felt soaked through and he was shivering, but he gritted his teeth and trudged on, adjusting his grip on his gun every few minutes. He had been in the sewers for hours, searching for anything even sort of resembling a lair, to no avail. He couldn’t hear anything other than his own shoes splashing through something he didn’t want to think about and his harsh breathing. It was unsettling.

Castiel had never actually hunted a shapeshifter before, but his father had come home complaining about them enough times for him to dread everything about his decision to hunt alongside his research. Though he did probably have a better chance of finding his father’s murderer outside of the comfort and protection of his home, he was completely in the dark on how he was to kill the demon. Exorcism wasn’t enough to sate Castiel’s need for revenge; if the demon was as powerful as he suspected, it would emerge from Hell possibly at a late point in Castiel’s lifetime. He wanted it gone, he wanted it to suffer, and he wanted it to understand why it was being killed. 

He had ended the lives of many monsters in his life, and on the journey he had learned that most hunters did not come into the life through generations of family members raised to be warriors. Most hunters were ripped out of their regular, mundane lives by pain and blood and, most likely, death. The people that Castiel and his father couldn’t save were the people that dragged their families into hunting. With his father’s death, Castiel had become one of them, a hunter driven by revenge and anger rather than a sense of justice and doing what was right for the common good. He felt, somehow, that having a cause would make him do his job better and keep him alive.

Finally, there was something moving in the darkness. Another pair of shoes kicking ‘water’ around and cursing and grunting. Castiel froze, listening, and recognized the distinct sounds of someone very frustrated with the hospitality of the St. Louis sewer system. Could they have already heard him? Who were they? Were they coming his way? 

The answer to his third question was  _ yes.  _ Castiel cursed under his breath as he heard the sloshing come closer and he raised his gun, fully prepared to face a shapeshifter, but also prepared to scare the living hell out of a civilian sewer worker. He hated shapeshifters. One could never know who was themselves and who was a shapeshifter until tested with silver, and often by that time one was close enough to be attacked by said shifter. 

The first thing Castiel thought when the man fell into the beam of light emanating from Castiel’s flashlight, was that he looked like a hunter. He was wearing jeans and logger boots and a canvas jacket over flannel and an undershirt. It was very similar to what Castiel himself was wearing. He relaxed infinitesimally, but kept both gun and flashlight up and trained on the man.

“Woah!” He held his hands up to shield his eyes, taking a step back. “Jesus, man, that’s fucking bright!” The man blinked and squinted at Castiel suspiciously. “Are you a hunter?”

Castiel grunted out a yes. 

“I’m assuming you are also a hunter?”

The man plastered a grin on his face, one that Castiel could peg as fake from a mile away. 

“Yep. So, shapeshifters, right? They sure are a bitch.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. 

“They are indeed. Hard to tell who is and who isn’t a fake. Forgive me if I don’t quite trust you.” He pulled out a silver knife from his back pocket and approached the hunter carefully. The other man’s smile faltered, but only for a second.

“Nah, man. I get it. Probably a good idea to check everyone, especially when they’re shapeshifters.” 

Castiel frowned, confused, but the shifter’s monstrous eyes and wicked grin were the last things he saw before he fell into darkness. 

 

+++*+++

 

Castiel came to slightly when the shapeshifter was tying his wrists behind his back, to a chair. He felt someone else’s heat, heard someone speak, but couldn’t tell if it was the shifter or another one of his victims. He was too tired to figure it out.

 

+++*+++

 

Castiel woke completely when he felt someone gently tapping his cheek. 

“Hey. Hey! Man, you gotta wake up.” 

Castiel tensed. The voice was undoubtedly the shifter’s and his legs jerked forward instinctively, but he found they were bound, too, and felt like crying. He heard the person standing in front of him take a step back. He  _ hated  _ shapeshifters. He struggled against his bonds. 

“Woah, hey man. Sammy, what’s his problem?”

“Dude, I told you, the shifter’s wearing your face. He’s probably more than a little spooked.”

The second voice sounded vaguely familiar.

“Oh, shit, yeah.” 

A face appeared before him, cautious and concerned. It was the shapeshifter’s face, but he figured that this was the original, not a carbon copy, if the state of his face was anything to go by. The bride of his nose and the tops of his cheeks were dotted with freckles, and even by the dim candlelight Castiel could see that his eyes were green and gold. They reminded him of caramel apples and the peridot from his grandmother’s precious stone collection. 

“Hey, uh, dude? I’m gonna- is this loaded with silver?” The man held up Castiel’s gun. Castiel nodded. “Right. Well, here.” The man released the magazine and held a single silver bullet flat on his palm for Castiel to see. “See? Not a shifter. Can I untie you now?” 

Castiel nodded wordlessly. 

“Awesome.”

As soon as Castiel was free, the man handed him his gun and everything of his the shifter had left behind. 

“You're hunters?” he asked his rescuers. 

“Yep. I’m Dean Winchester, this is my little brother Sam. You?” 

The green-eyed man spoke, grinning with the same smile the shapeshifter had given him, but softer, more real and more kind.

“Castiel Novak. Are you John Winchester’s sons?” Castiel’s father had worked with the man enough times for Castiel to have heard of him.

“Yeah. You know him?”

“Not personally.”

Dean nodded absently and looked around the eerie setting of the sewers, tugging on the ends of his shirt sleeves nervously. “We should leave. Sammy, you remember the way?”

“I’m not an idiot, Dean. Come on, he’s probably at Rebecca’s already.”

Sam was tall, taller than both his older brother and Castiel, neither of whom were particularly short. Castiel had never felt short in his life until he met Sam Winchester. 

Sam led them through the complex sewer system, and for a few minutes, none of them said anything. Eventually the awkward silence seemed to get to Dean, because he cleared his throat and began to speak to Castiel. 

“So, how did you get into hunting?”

“My family have all been hunters since America’s foundings. Along the way, I’m afraid we’ve forgotten exactly why we started in the first place. My father raised me to follow in countless footsteps.” Castiel frowned at his shoes. Except he did have a reason for hunting, now. He had someone to avenge. “But I left, and tried to live a normal life.”

“Let me guess. Something happen to papa?” Dean sounded bitter, and Sam turned his head to consider his brother, his expression unreadable to Castiel. 

“He was killed. I was taken to identify his body for the police, and I knew immediately that his death was nothing they could solve, so I went… home.” 

Castiel didn’t have to look at Dean to feel his bitter expression shift into a pitying look.

“I’m sorry man. Our dad kinda just… disappeared.”

Castiel nodded but offered no response.

They eventually made it to an exit, one that Dean and Castiel barely fit through, let alone the giant that was Sam. One he squeezed out, he urged the other two men along. 

“Come  _ on. _ We gotta find a phone, call the police.”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, you're gonna put an APB out on me!” Dean protested. 

Castiel personally thought when dealing with shapeshifters and other such creatures it would be wise to take extra precaution to stay away from law enforcement, as their rapidly changing identities could get many people in trouble and cause a lot of overall confusion. Castiel didn’t say anything though, because the monster was wearing the face of a Winchester, and he felt like the fate of it should be in their hands. 

Sam just shrugged. 

“Sorry.”

Dean huffed and tugged Castiel’s elbow, evidently trusting his brother to follow. 

“Come on, this way.” 

The three of them took off running down the alleyway, presumably to reach Rebecca’s house. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure why he was still there, but he followed anyway. 

They were too late. By the time they skidded to a stop, Dean dragging Castiel back by the sleeve of his shirt, the house was swarming with police cars - and even a S.W.A.T. car. Sam swore and turned back around. 

“Haul ass!” He hissed.

“What? Why? We should make sure everything’s okay-”

This time it was Castiel dragging Dean forward by the sleeve. Dean let out a startled yelp and stumbled after him. 

“What?”

“Dean, I fear you’ve forgotten that the man the police are either holding in custody or in pursuit of looks like you. It would not bode well for any of us if you were caught.” 

Dean was running on his own now and Castiel wasn’t sure as to why he was still clutching to the man’s jacket. He quickly let go.

“Oh, shit, right. I kinda forgot. Where to now, Sammy?”

“Nowhere where everyone can see your face.”

So, naturally, they ended up charging onto main street, which was teeming with people. By some stroke of dumb luck, no one paid attention to the sweaty, smelly, bloody group of large men that had just charged out of the scary, dark, alleyway. They wandered tentatively, but no one seemed to care about them.

Not even when Castiel spotted a TV display in a window, plastering a fairly accurate portrayal of Dean’s face over each TV. Dean groaned when they got close enough to see it. 

“Man, that’s not even a good picture.”

“It’s good enough,” Sam pointed out, still suspiciously scanning the area.

Dean followed him, grumbling under his breath. They fell into step side by side each other, all of them jumping at sudden noises and their eyes forever roaming. 

“Seriously, what the hell. I’ve passed seven crappy pictures of my face, and not one person has recognized me. What the hell?” 

Dean was far more put out by this than Castiel thought he probably should have been. 

“My guess would be that most people probably don’t care, and if they do, the police said nothing about accomplices in your crimes against humanity.” Castiel pointed out as he made awkward eye contact and smiled weakly at someone who had been staring at them for a bit too long.

“I haven’t committed any crimes against humanity!” Dean protested loudly, spreading his arms wide enough that he nearly hit Castiel in the face.

Sam swatted him. 

“I don’t believe that for one second.”

_ “Wow.  _ Just wow. I hate you guys.” 

“I hate you too, big brother.”

_ “Wow.  _ Do you hate me, Cas?” 

Castiel frowned at the nickname but said nothing of it; many people had referred to him as that because his full name was difficult to pronounce. 

“I just met you. I have no feelings for you either way.”

_ “Wow.” _

Sam rolled his eyes.

They rounded into an alleyway as an uneasy silence fell, save for Dean stepping in a puddle and nearly tripping. Today was just not a good day for him, Castiel remarked. The silence, so different from the teasing amusement of just a few moments ago, was making Castiel nervous.

Sam finally spoke. 

“It said attempted murder, at least we know that you-”

“I didn’t kill her!” Dean protested. The silence fell again.

Sam sighed. 

“I’ll check on Rebecca in the morning, see if she’s alright.”

“Okay, but first I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy  _ crap _ outta him. Cas, you game?”

Castiel was startled to be included in the conversation. 

“Oh. Um. Yes. But I only have one gun.”

“The hell kind of hunter only carries one gun?”

“This was kind of a spur of the moment hunt.”

Sam interrupted. “Dean, we have no weapons. No silver bullets. You can’t just go in with one gun, although I’m sure you're a very good shot, Cas.” 

Surely his name wasn’t  _ that  _ hard to pronounce. Why was he Cas to everyone now?

“Sam, the guy’s walking around with my face, it’s a little personal, I wanna find him.”

Sam just nodded, though when he met Castiel’s eyes he could see the fear and the wearing-thin tolerance for stupidity in them. 

“Okay. Where do we look?”

“Well, we could start with going back to the sewers.”

“We have no weapons, besides Cas’ gun. You really wanna walk in there naked? He stole our guns, we need more.” 

The silence was back, thick and heavy with thought. Dean looked supremely pissed off, and Sam tired. Castiel was wary of the both of them.

“The car?”

This made Dean turn back to face the group. 

“I’m betting he drove over to Rebecca’s.”  
“I believe the television said he fled on foot,” Castiel interjected. 

“I bet he’s still parked there,” Sam finished. 

Dean held up a hand and waved it back and forth before clenching it into a fist. 

“Oh, the thought of him driving my car.”

“Alright, come on.”  
“It’s killin’ me.”

“Let it go.”

Not for the first time, Castiel wished he had a sibling. 

 

\---*---

 

Castiel had always considered St. Louis as a smaller city, but that, of course, was before he found himself running across it with the Winchesters. It wasn’t even as if Rebecca’s house was terribly far from the street they had been on, but without a car everything seemed a million miles away from everything else. They finally reached the street they had been on not too long ago, but now everything was still. There were no officers guarding what Sam pointed out as Rebecca’s house, which Castiel found irresponsible, even if they would be of little to no use. 

It quickly became evident that the shapeshifter had not parked at Rebecca’s house, or anywhere near it. They found themselves wandering another mile or so when they finally rounded a corner to find a sleek black car that Castiel somehow vaguely recognized. It was entirely possible that he had seen it around town during the brief time that he had been in the area. In fact, there was a high chance that he and the Winchesters were staying at the same motel, and that’s where he had seen it. They did lead the same lifestyle, after all.

Dean laughed triumphantly. 

“There she is.” The Winchesters huffed and Dean let his chin hit his chest in clear relief. “Finally something went right tonight.”

That, of course, was when everything went wrong. Police sirens sounded far too close, alerting the hunters to the guards on Rebecca’s house that Castiel had previously been curious about. 

“Aw, crap,” Dean muttered, making to turn around, only to see another police car parked at the end of the street they had come running down. They scrambled around, each man trying to go a different way until Dean called out for them to go one way, which happened to be over a fence. 

“Wait, Dean, you go, we’ll hold them off.”

“What are you talking about, they’ll catch you!”

“Look, they can’t hold us! Just go, keep out of sight, meet us at Rebecca’s!”

Dean was about to jump the very tall fence when he turned back to Castiel. 

“Cas you gotta come with, you have a gun on you.”

Sam and Castiel both cursed under their breath before Castiel was following Dean over the fence. 

“Dean!” The younger Winchester called just after Castiel had dropped to the ground on the other side of the fence and Dean was straddling the top of it. “Stay out of the sewers alone! Stick to Cas like  _ glue.”  _

Dean said nothing as he swung gracefully over the fence and he and Castiel ran like hell was chasing them, which wasn’t too much of a stretch. 

“I mean it,” were Sam’s final words to them before they were out of earshot. Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand, heeding his brother’s words, and it felt like fire. Dean’s hands were warm, and the dirt on them matched Castiel’s. 

They ran all the way back to the motel, neither saying anything. Castiel was right in assuming that he had shared a motel with the Winchesters. 

“D’you think they found my motel room? I used a fake name but - fuck, I should’ve thought this through better. Now we gotta run around and look for another motel-”

“There’s no need. Come on.” Still holding Dean’s hand, Castiel tugged the other hunter towards his own hotel room, which was arguably safer. As soon as they entered the room, Dean dropped Castiel’s hand. 

“Nice. What are the odds?” Dean grinned cockily at him and Castiel rolled his eyes. 

“Extremely high, if you think about it.” 

Dean snorted. 

“Don’t go all nerdy on me, man. Are you gonna shower first?”

“You can, if you want, though you don’t have any clothes to change into.” Cas pulled his gun out of the waistband of his jeans and tossed it onto the bed. When he looked back, Dean was studying him, his eyes- which looked even greener in the light- moving slowly up and down Castiel’s body slowly. They then snapped up to look Castiel in the eye. 

“Do you have anything that fits a little big, maybe? You're not that much smaller than me.”

Castiel huffed, trying to ignore his burning cheeks as he went through his duffel bag. He most certainly did not have time for anything to do with Dean Winchester’s eyes or his face or his stupid grin. He had a demon to hunt, a demon to trap, a demon to kill. He managed to locate a pair of sweatpants that he always tripped over the hems of and-

Oh.

One of Castiel’s father’s shirts that he hadn’t even really realized he had packed, let alone owned. Daniel had been a bit taller and broader than Castiel, so the shirt would probably fit Dean.

Castiel stared down at the black material for far too long. Thankfully, Dean held his tongue and made no sound or movement during Castiel’s moment of solitude. Castiel held out the clothing to Dean, who took it without a word and disappeared into the bathroom to take his shower. Castiel sat on the floor and picked at the carpet. 

He wondered what Daniel would think to know that Castiel was hunting again. Would he be proud, or maybe sad that Castiel was once again in danger? Would he be angry, maybe, that it had taken his father’s death to draw Castiel back into the fight? Castiel imagined he would be reprimanded for hunting for revenge.

Maybe Daniel blamed his son for his death. After all, if Castiel had stayed with his father, been with him when he was attacked by a demon, maybe it would have gone differently. Maybe Daniel Novak would still be alive. 

Dean’s shower was quick, and his reentry into the room tore Castiel out of train of thought. He slipped into the bathroom still without a word to Dean, and relished in the feeling of hot water on his head, easing his muscles and distracting him. When he emerged, clad in a different pair of jeans and a lucky brand t-shirt with a navy hoodie, Dean was sitting cross-legged on Castiel’s bed, eyes downcast. As Castiel closed the door behind him, Dean looked up sharply. 

“Hey.”

“Hello, Dean. What do we do next?” Castiel picked up his pistol from where it now rested on the nightstand and checked the magazine. He assumed that the most efficient option would be to leave immediately to get Dean’s car so they could either go to the sewers or retrieve Sam. It was already 3:30.

“Uh, we don’t have to go right now, Cas. We can chill for a bit.” 

Castiel slipped the magazine back into the handle of the gun and put it down. He eyed Dean suspiciously. The man looked nervous.

Castiel just nodded and sat back on the floor, pulling his duffel bag back towards him for his book. He had barely opened it when Dean coughed a little. Castiel looked up to find him sitting normally on the bed, leaning forward with his hands clasped over his knees so that his entire body looked nearly folded in two. 

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Uh. Sorry if this is a dick question, but when, uh. When did your dad die?”

Castiel looked back at the floor. 

“A little over two months ago.”

“Was it,” Dean gestured at the air, “on the job?” 

Castiel nodded. 

“I’m almost certain it was a demon.”

“Oh.” Dean nodded. “Well, that’s farther than my dad’s gotten searching for the thing that killed our mom, and he’s been working on it for 22 years.” Castiel nodded a little sadly, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “Hey, what about your mom, anyway? You haven’t said anything about her.”

“I don’t know her. When I was born she didn’t want a child and so she tracked my father down and handed me over.” Castiel frowned. “Sometimes I’m glad she did so, but other times I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like not only to have grown up with a feminine figure instead of a masculine one, but where I would be if I had lived a normal life with her.” 

It was true. While Castiel loved his father and loved having a true, righteous purpose, it would have undoubtedly been easier for him to have been raised by his mother. 

“Yikes. I’m sorry, man. It must suck to know one of your parents didn’t want you.” 

Dean looked genuinely upset that he had broached the subject, but Castiel just smiled a little and stood.

“It would be in our best interests to reach the car while the police force is preoccupied, and as he said, they can’t hold him for long so we should leave now.”

“Right.”

They began pulling their shoes and socks on, and Castiel returned his silver-loaded pistol to the waistband of his jeans. 

And then they were walking back through the city of St. Louis, this time at a leisurely pace, as no one was currently after them. The silence was less stifling and more contemplative, comfortable. Dean walked with his hands in the pockets of Castiel’s sweatshirt, and Castiel with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Dean was humming an unrecognizable tune, but Castiel didn’t mind. It was kind of nice. They reached the car as the sun peeked over the sky, and this time there were no police cars, but still, they moved quickly, Dean gathering what he needed from the back of the car, snagging a flashlight for Castiel. They made their way to the sewers, despite having showered so recently. Such was the life. 

Dean led the way into the strange candle-lit lair of the shapeshifters. There appeared to be no monsters there, and both hunters relaxed their grip on their guns and let their arms fall to their side. Dean moved his flashlight over the tables that housed many strange possessions of the shifter’s, including a weird clump of what appeared to be human flesh. 

There was a sound farther back in the cave, that made both boys’ heads turn. Castiel tightened his hold on his pistol and followed Dean back to the entrance of another tunnel, where a human form crouched under a tarp. Dean pulled it away to reveal an incredibly bloody blonde woman who looked scared beyond belief. 

“Rebecca?” Dean said in surprise. 

Ah, so this was the woman who seemed to be the center of this hunt. Naturally she would find herself in these sewers. Dean immediately knelt down and began to untie the thick ropes binding Rebecca. 

“What happened?” he and Castiel asked together.

Rebecca spared him a glance before turning her attention back to Dean. 

“I was walking home and everything just went white, someone hit me over the head and then I wound up here just in time to see that  _ thing  _ turn into me.” So the shapeshifter had taken Rebecca’s form. Her voice was shaky and Castiel could tell she was about to start bawling. “How is that even possible?”

Dean finished untying her. 

“Okay, it’s okay, can you walk?” Rebecca nodded. “Okay, we gotta hurry. Sam said he was going to see  _ you.” _

Dean grabbed Rebecca’s hand and led her out of the sewers, Castiel in the back to make sure the shifter didn’t suddenly appear and attack them. On the way out, Dean grabbed his and Sam’s weapons. They raced through the sewers, blessedly coming up very near Rebecca’s house. 

Dean took a breath and turned to Rebecca. “Rebecca, are you gonna be okay?” She nodded again. “Alright, then go sit in my car and  _ stay there.  _ Me and Cas, we’ll go in and gank this motherfucker.”

Rebecca nodded once more and made her way to the Impala. Dean patted Castiel on the shoulder and led the way into the house, where they could hear sounds of a struggle. So Sam was here, then. They followed the source of the noise to a mostly destroyed room. Sam was being pinned to the ground by - Dean. The shapeshifter had melted his imitation of Rebecca, leaving more clumps of flesh all over the place. 

“Hey!” Dean called. 

The monster immediately flipped off Sam. It crouched, ready to attack, until it noticed the guns trained on it. 

Dean and Cas shot it at exactly the same time. The monster collapsed onto its back. Rebecca rushed in behind Castiel a moment later, horror written all over her face. Sam was struggling to stand, looking sick at the sight of his dead brother, even though it wasn’t his brother at all. Rebecca recovered first, moving to Sam. Dean knelt by his doppelganger and yanked the necklace from its body, then removing the ring it wore. 

They all went back to the motel, planning to sleep for a year. Castiel woke first, trying to maneuver between the sleeping Winchesters to get to their clothes. He felt some laundry was in order. When he returned, he found that Sam and Dean had collected all their things and were packing up, still reluctant to spend much time in their own room. Castiel understood that. They were, after all, still being hunted. Castiel sorted out their freshly washed out their clothes from the large pile of laundry and Dean went to change into his own belongings. 

“Cas, you heading out?” he asked when he emerged. 

Castiel nodded. The hunt was over, it was time for him to go home. He had work to do. 

“Yes, I must return to Denver to continue researching the circumstances of my father’s death.” 

“Alright, well hey,” Dean picked up Castiel’s phone from the table and started typing something, “call us if you need anything.” He tossed the phone to Castiel, who caught it easily. “We’re going over to Rebecca’s. See ya later, Cas.” 

The Winchester brothers left, leaving Castiel with a hint of a smile on his face. He remembered Daniel being frustrated with their father, but it seemed Sam and Dean were kind, humorous. He hoped to run into them again.

But for now Castiel was returning home, to focus on the demon who had murdered his father. That was, after all, the whole reason he had returned to hunting in the first place. Not to make friends with other hunters, albeit attractive ones. He would undoubtedly be going on more hunts but he did not plan to make any calls to Dean Winchester.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel had never liked Boston. The only reason he was there was for the library, which was apparently famous for its books on demonology, at least in the hunter world. His reading, however, was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. A girl with cropped blonde hair and brown eyes grinned devilishly down at him. “You into demons?”

“You could say that,” Castiel grumbled. He already knew this girl was going to be an annoyance.

“Cool. Whatcha readin’?” Castiel showed her the cover of his book, and she nodded. Somehow, it irked Castiel. “Looks interesting. I’m Meg, by the way. Meg Masters.”

“Castiel Novak.” The girl’s grin somehow became even more feral. 

“Interesting name.” She wasn’t the first to point that out, and she wouldn’t be the last. 

“Yes. My mother named me after an angel.” And therein was the extent of his knowledge of his mother. She was religious, she was unwilling to raise a child, and her eyes were blue, like Castiel’s. Daniel’s eyes had been brown, as had his grandparents’ been. It wasn’t exactly a lot to go on; he didn’t even know her name.

“Fitting, too.” Meg purred, resting a hand on his shoulder gently.

Castiel tensed. “Ah…”

Meg leaned over to whisper in his ear. “What’s the matter, Castiel? Not into pretty girls?”

“No, actually.”

Med laughed softly, her mouth still right by his ear. “Shame.” She disappeared from Castiel’s side, and he instantly felt warmer. She seated herself across from him at his table. Great. “So, you from Boston, angel?”

“No.”

“Strong, silent type. I like it. Where you from, then?”

“Colorado.” Castiel figured it was best to keep it as vague as possible. He was very sure that she could stalk him.

“Ooh, a mountain man, even better.” Meg purred, leaning forward on the table.

“Never once have I been to the mountains.” He kept his voice completely flat and continued reading his book so she’d go away. His phone buzzed, but he chose to ignore it so as not to further attract Meg’s attention.

“Tell me, Castiel, you're named after an angel, and you look like an angel… but you're reading about demons. Why don’t you read about angels?”

“Because angels aren’t real.” Castiel grumbled. If they were, they would probably be trying to kill people too. 

“O ye of little faith.” Meg sing-songed. Castiel looked up, mouth open, but the girl was gone. He sighed and quickly checked his phone.

_ One missed call from Dean Winchester _ .

 

\---*---

 

Dean Winchester was a strange individual, Castiel thought as he was making his way to Indiana. Who calls a person- a person that lives in Denver- and asks them if they ‘could please haul ass to Indiana.’ Castiel had been in Boston, a 14-hour drive from Dean. Suffice to say he was not entirely pleased with the situation.

When Castiel arrived in Burkittsville, he parked his car in front of a diner and looked across the street to find the Winchester’s Impala parked close by. Castiel approached and saw Dean sitting in the driver’s seat, staring intently at his cell phone. 

Castiel knocked on the window. Dean looked up in surprise but then grinned at him, gesturing for him to get in on the other side. “Heya, Cas. Sorry for the short notice and all, but-”

Castiel cut him off with a glare.

Dean nodded. “Good to see you're in a good mood. I wouldn’t have called you, because I usually have Sam, but that  _ bitch  _ took off to California even though people are dying because he’s a little-picture brat.”

Castiel was shocked at the awful language Dean was using the describe the little brother he had previously been so well in tune with. “Why did he go to California?”

Dean sighed, trailing a hand down his face. “You know how I told you our dad disappeared on me? Well, he called last night, and Sammy traced the number to Cali. He’s hitchhiking now, I guess, because Dad told us to come here to do our  _ job _ and not let people  _ die _ , and I mean obviously if Dad’s calling us he’s fine, but Sammy wouldn't listen and left me all alone to work this case.” Dean looked back over to Castiel appreciatively. “Good thing you were in close.”

Castiel glared again, though he was glad Dean had called. It was never a good idea to hunt alone, even if he had been guilty of that himself. “What is the case?”

“Right.” Dean pulled out two sheets of paper from his pocket, handing them to Castiel. “So, there’s these three couple, all from different states,  _ but  _ they all took a cross-country trip, and none of them arrived at their destination. They’re missing. Each route took them to the same part of Indiana, here. They always showed up and went missing the second week of April.”

“This week.”

“Yup. Happens every year. Those missing papers are the most recent couple that went missing. Now, way I see it, this is a really small town. I bet we’ll be able to notice an outsider couple, and I think our best bet would be to tail ‘em and make sure they make it wherever they’re going okay.”

Castiel nodded. “That sounds deceptively simple but doable. We should talk to the townspeople.”

“Look at you, man with the plan. Alright, let’s go, but I’m doing the talking. I doubt many of these people speak your language.” Dean grinned at him and hopped out of the car.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I speak English better than you do!” Castiel protested.

“Exactly!” Castiel rolled his eyes but followed Dean up to the man sitting outside a restaurant entitled ‘Scotty’s Cafe.’ “Let me guess. Scotty?” Castiel didn’t know why he would assume that. This man could be literally anyone.

But apparently Dean’s observational skills were much  better than his own, because the man glanced up at the sign and then back at Dean. “Yup.”

“Hi, my name is John Bonham-”

“Isn’t that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?”

Dean frowned for a moment but then grinned. “Wow. Good, classic rock fan.” He laughed a little, fake. “This is my friend, uh, Jimmy.”

“Let me guess. Paige?”

Dean quirked a smile, but Castiel interrupted before he could say something stupid like ‘yes.’ “Smith, actually.”

Scotty’s facial expression remained bored. “What can I do for you, boys?”

Dean cleared his throat and checked his pockets before remembering something and turned to pluck the papers out of Castiel’s hand. “We were wondering if you’ve seen these people, by chance.”

Scotty glanced at the pictures, an ugly frown on his face. Castiel did not like this man. “Nope. Who are they?”

Dean hesitated a bit before answering. “Friends of ours. They went missing about a year ago. They passed through around here, and we already asked around Scottsburg and Salem, so-”

“Sorry.” Scotty handed the papers back. “We don’t get many strangers around here.” His eyes flicked from Dean to Castiel. 

Dean nodded. “Scotty, you’ve got a smile that lights up a room, anybody ever tell you that?”

Castiel frowned. “He hasn’t-” Dean elbowed him in the ribs, the universal sign for ‘shut up’ that even Castiel understood. He shut up. Scotty just stared at them, still frowning. 

“Heh. Nevermind. I’ll see you around.” Dean stepped off the porch, dragging Cas with him. 

They went to the gas station next, Dean grilling the owners to no avail, until a young girl emerged from some other room, asking if the guy had a tattoo. 

“Yes.” Castiel answered, and she smiled a little at him.

The girl took the papers from Dean and studied them before looking up at the man and woman Castiel thought must be her parents. “You remember? They were just married.”

The girl’s father took the papers from her and looked at them again, bringing a fist to his mouth. “You're right. They did stop here for gas, weren’t here for more than 10 minutes.”

Now. Castiel was an awful liar, always had been. But that did not mean that he couldn’t tell when someone else was lying, and this man was. About what, he wasn’t sure, but something just didn’t seem right to him.

Dean, however, didn’t seem to pick up on that. “Do you remember anything else?”

“I told how them to get back to the interstate, and they left town.”

Dean looked excited about this new information. “Could you point me in the same direction?”

As soon as Dean started driving away, Castiel voiced his concerns. “That man was lying about something.”

Dean glanced over at him. “What? About what?”

“I don’t know, it’s just- it’s odd that he kept saying he didn’t remember anything and then as soon as someone else  _ does  _ remember them suddenly he remembers all about them, too. I don’t know.”

Dean shrugged. “You think he killed them?”

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know, but there is something strange about him, about everyone here.”

“Wouldn’t be a hunt if there wasn’t, Cas.”

Behind them somewhere, they heard the distinct sound of an EMF meter going off. Dean looked at him curiously. “The hell?”

Cas sighed and twisted in his seat, rooting through the bag of stuff behind him to locate the source of the noise. He handed the gadget to Dean, who stared at it in confusion. 

“Phone lines?” Castiel suggested. If they were too close to one it could make the device go off, but there wasn’t one in sight. 

“Nah. Come on, let’s see what’s here.” Dean pulled over on the side of the road and climbed out of the car, Castiel clambering after. They were pulled over by an orchard, one that Castiel was certain he would be running from screaming had it not been daytime. Dean scanned the orchard with his eyes and Castiel did the same, searching for obvious threats. Finding none, Dean and Castiel traded looks and walked in, stepping carefully. The place had an almost tangible air of danger, and it made Castiel’s shoulders hunch. 

They reached a clearing where Castiel stopped walking, instinctively. Dean scanned the area in a circle, eyes coming to rest on a rather creepy scarecrow. When Castiel saw it he flinched back from it, but Dean approached warily. He seemed to have a staring contest with the scarecrow, before letting out a breath of laughter. “Dude, you fugly.” Castiel swatted him in the arm. “What? Look at that thing and tell me it’s not the fucking grossest thing you’ve ever seen.” 

“I don’t want to look at it any longer than is absolutely necessary.” Castiel folded his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture.

“What, scared?”

Castiel glared.

Dean laughed and turned back to the figure. Castiel could pinpoint the moment Dean saw something relevant because his body tensed and he rushed forward, towards the scarecrow, naturally. Castiel reluctantly followed. Dean grabbed the metal ladder that was sitting nearby and set it up in front of the scarecrow, climbing up. Castiel remained with his feet firmly on the ground. Dean got right in the scarecrow’s face, and Castiel circled so that he could see Dean’s face and what he was doing. The hunter studied the leather that made up the face of the thing before directing his attention to its arm, the one with a scythe for a hand. He lifted its sleeve up, and Castiel shuddered again. Dean reached in his pocket for the papers, and looked back and forth between them and the scarecrow’s arm. 

“What is it?” Castiel asked, because he had no idea what Dean was getting at. The man jumped a little, seemingly startled by Castiel’s voice.

“Jesus! I forgot you were here, you're much quieter than Sammy. Uh, yeah, you see this tattoo on the guy’s arm?” Dean held out the missing papers towards him and Castiel stepped forward cautiously to peer at them.

“Yes, why?”

“Well, I found the same tattoo on this thing’s arm.”

Castiel groaned hugely, tipping his head back to the sky. “I do not like this.”

Dean grinned at his displeasure. “I know. Come on, let’s investigate more of the orchard.”

They found nothing of consequence in the entire orchard, and eventually decided to go back into town and talk to the locals. They pulled into the gas station owned by the suspicious couple and their daughter. 

“You're back.”

Dean shrugged. “Never left.”

“Still looking for your friends?” The girl was leaning against a pole, hands in her pockets. Dean and Castiel both nodded.

“You mind filling her up there, uh, Emily?” Castiel frowned. He didn’t remember her telling them her name, but she was wearing a necklace that said it for her. Emily turned to the gas pump and began to work. “So, did you grow up here?” Castiel was quickly learning that Dean was a very social person where Castiel was rather introverted. 

Emily stood. “I came here when I was around 13. I lost my parents in a car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in.” Castiel realized that was the liar couple, her aunt and uncle. 

“Are they kind to you?” Castiel asked. 

“Everybody’s nice here.”

“That’s fortunate.” Castiel tried not to sound suspicious or negative, but unfortunately, negativity was a natural undertone of his voice. 

Dean made a face at him. “So, it’s a perfect little town?”

Emily shrugged. “Well, you know, it’s the Boonies. But I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here,” Emily shrugged looking around, “it’s almost like we’re blessed.”

Dean just nodded, smirking a little, but Castiel could see the layers of thought in his eyes. Emily’s words had cemented his suspicious about this town. He seemed to struggle with his next words, biting his bottom lip before blurting, “Hey, have you been down to the orchard? Seen that-that scarecrow?” 

Emily nodded. “Yeah, it creeps me out.”

Dean full on laughed and jabbed a thumb back at Castiel. “Yeah, he wouldn’t even go near it. He was about to piss himself.” 

Castiel swatted him in the shoulder. “I was not. And I don’t understand why I would have to go near the scarecrow. It’s not as if it holds all the answers.”

Dean shrugged and gave him a look that easily read  _ it might.  _ “Anyway, whose is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just always been there.”

Dean contemplated this for a moment, as did Castiel. Suspicious, everlasting, creepy, unowned orchards never meant anything good, though the specifics were still hidden. “Is that yours?” Dean was looking at a large red truck parked in front of the garage.

“Customer’s. Had some car troubles.” 

Dean and Castiel traded looks. “I don’t suppose it belongs to a couple, a man and a woman?” Castiel inquired.

Emily nodded and Dean and Castiel shared another look. They would have to keep a close watch on this couple, to see how exactly they would be targeted, and by what.

After their conversation with Emily, Dean and Castiel split up, with Dean searching the town for the endangered couple, and Castiel headed for the orchard to investigate further. He parked his car closer to the orchard than they had pulled over before, for safety reasons. If the scarecrow came to life and started chasing him, the car would be close by. Upon closer inspection of the area, Castiel did manage to find a few interesting things around. An old, rusted necklace. Bloodstained shoelaces. Car keys, buried in the dirt. All things that easily pointed to people being murdered there. When the place started to give Castiel chills, he made a completely objective decision to get the fuck out forever. There was no doubt in his mind that the victims were being led to the orchard, and were being killed. On his way back into town, he received a call. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas! Hey, are you still at the orchard?”

“No, I just left.”

“Okay, well, you can’t go back into town. Something is seriously messed up there man, and they know we’re onto them. Told me to get the hell out of dodge and if they saw either of us ever again, we’d get the pleasure of meeting their pistols. I’m headed for the next town over, meet me there?”

“Of course. Which direction?”

“East. We’ll hide out there until nightfall, and then we’ll go back to the orchard.”

“Dean, there isn’t a town to the east close enough that we would get there and back in time.”

“No? Well, there’s nothing wrong with stopping by on the side of the road. We’ll see who sees who first, okay?”

“Alright. Goodbye, Dean.”

“How do you manage to make that sound like I’m headed to my doom? You gotta lighten up, man, seriously. I’ll see you in a bit.” Castiel dropped the phone and turned the car around, heading east. It wasn’t long before he spotted Dean, leaning against his car leisurely, leather jacket off for the moment and laid over the hood of the car. Castiel parked in front of him and they sat, Castiel on the trunk of his car and Dean on the hood of his, passing the one beer they had managed to find between them and talking about nothing in particular. 

“Dean, why didn’t you go with your brother to find your father? I thought that was your goal, your mission.” Castiel handed the bottle back to Dean, who took a long swig and stared at the ground for a few moments, then sighed and rubbed at his jaw.

“I don’t know, Cas. Just- sometimes I don’t even wanna find him, you know? I mean, he left me, no explanation, no warning, he was just… gone. And it’s not like it’s the first time he’s been missing, but this feels a lot less like a long hunt and a lot more like abandonment. He’s never just left without an explanation. So why should we waste all this time and energy looking for him? He clearly doesn’t wanna be found. Plus… me and Sam got a good thing goin’, and as soon as this is all over, he’s gone again. I missed him for four years, and it was miserable. I don’t… I don’t want things to go back to they way they’ve been.” Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration and grinned at Cas sheepishly. “Sorry. It feels good to get that off my chest. Sammy just won’t listen, you know?”

Castiel nodded. “I understand, Dean. Thank you for telling me.” And he meant it. He’s always felt special, important, useful when someone shared their problems with him.

Dean grinned shyly again. “So, uh, what was it like with you and your old man?”

Castiel cleared his throat and turned his eyes to the sky, looking for shapes in the clouds. “My father was… stern. He never expected a child, but he was glad to have me, if only to pass on the family name. I had to be… perfect. It was my duty to my family to act, talk, walk, be a certain way. And it isn’t a bad way, so I won’t complain, but when I got things wrong… I have just always felt that he was disappointed in me, my entire life.” Castiel came back to earth. “Don’t misunderstand me, he was an excellent father who was very accepting of however I wanted to live, as long as I did it with honor and justice. As long as I never forgot my purpose, which was to help people.”

Dean chuckled, passing the almost empty bottle over. “Wow. Sounds like you guys are a hell of a lot more righteous than us. So, uh, you left the life, right? Stopped hunting? What did you do?”

“I went to college, and after I finished I had a job in a flower shop and I volunteered at homeless shelters and soup kitchens. It was…”

“Lonely?” Dean ventured. Castiel met his eyes and nodded. “Well, I would say the same’s true about hunting, but here you are and here I am and… I don’t know, Cas, but hangin’ out with you ‘s kinda nice.” Castiel looked down in an attempt to hide his smile, which only made Dean grin wider. “Alright, come on, let’s get this show on the road. It’s probably best if we just take my car.” Castiel nodded in agreement, tossing the glass bottle aside and circling to the passenger side of the Impala. 

“Okay, so if I was a psycho, couple-sacrificing maniac, and a couple just happens to stroll into my gas station, why would I point out their non-existent car troubles? To mess with their car, right Cas?” Dean was trying to understand what could draw the couples out of their car and into the orchard. Castiel’s father had never been so forthcoming with his thoughts as Dean, which was refreshing. He felt more like an equal, a partner, with Dean. 

“I would assume so.”

“Right. So, their deal is, like, drawing people to the orchard, so, the guy messes with their cars, they drive away, and I’ll bet he can fix it to get just close enough to the orchard and then it breaks down, they get out of the car, assume there’s someone living near the orchard that’ll help, and then  _ boom _ , Ray Bolger hops down and skins ‘em or something.”

Castiel frowned. “Who is Ray Bolger?”

Dean stared at him incredulously. “Seriously? Didn’t you ever see  _ The Wizard of Oz _ ?”

“I read the book.”

Dean sighed, exasperated. “Of course you did.”

“I’m assuming that Ray Bolger has some connection to the Scarecrow in  _ The Wizard of Oz _ ?”

“Yeah, Cas. He was the actor in the movie. Cas, I’m gonna ask you a question, and you gotta be honest with me. What movies  _ have  _ you seen?” Dean glanced at him, gnawing on his bottom lip and Castiel feels his stomach lurch at his wide green eyes and amusingly terrified expression. 

“My boss turned on  _ The Lion King _ once when we were snowed in.”

Silence.  
“Are you telling me,” Dean started slowly, “that the _only_ movie you have _ever seen, ever_ … is _The Lion King_?”

“Um… yes?” Castiel isn’t sure why this was such a big deal to Dean. Maybe if he had, in fact, immersed himself in more television he would understand.

Dean stared at Castiel, jaw agape. “Cas, who the hell  _ are _ you?”

“I’m Castiel. Hunter, former florist.”

Dean stared at him for a few more seconds, before chuckling heartily. “Man, you crack me up. ‘Former florist’, Jesus  _ Christ. _ ”

“I don’t understand what amuses you. I am a former florist.”

Dean continued to laugh, dropping his head to the steering wheel briefly. “I’m kinda glad you're my backup here, Cas.”

Cas smiled at him, barely, and Dean smiled back, hugely.

 

\---*---

 

After a daring rescue in the orchard, Dean was tapping his fingers restlessly against the couple’s car, staring down at the engine while Castiel held the flashlight for him. The couple themselves were sitting far away from the orchard, cuddled up in a blanket. Dean was attempting to fix their car, but he looked worried. 

“Alright, Cas. So, it’s not a spirit.”

“Because the rock salt had no effect on it.” They had fired round after round to no avail.

“Yeah. Also, I don’t think it can leave the orchard.”

“Which is a distinctly spirit-like trait, but maybe it draws its power from a tree in the orchard.” Castiel rotated the flashlight in his sweaty palm. 

“Okay, we can work with that. But I can’t work with this. We’ll give these two a ride to the next town and they can call a tow truck or something when they get there.” Dean slammed the hood of their car shut and goes to deliver the news to the couple. Castiel sighed and turned the flashlight off, relying instead on the light of the thousands of stars above his head. It was a rare sight, this many stars, one Castiel had always wanted to experience.

Before he knew it, Dean was jostling his elbow in an attempt to get his attention. “Hey, Cas, let’s rock ‘n’ roll.” Dean looked expectant, but Castiel just reached out and pushed his chin upwards and watched the stars reflecting in Dean’s eyes, mirrored on his freckles. Castiel smiled softly and his chest felt warm. 

“It’s hard to believe there can be this many stars yet still be dark.” Castiel commented.

Dean tore his gaze away from the sky to look at Castiel. “Come on. We’ve got people to save, Cas.”

“Right.” Castiel spared the stars one last glance before following Dean to the Impala, where the couple, Nathan and Julia, Castiel thinks their names are, are huddled in the backseat. When they make it to the town, Nathan and Julia thank them without being sure exactly what they are thanking them for, and then the hunters find a motel for the night.

“So, I found a local college and there’s a professor there who’s supposedly an expert in pagan crap. I figure we could ask him about any local lore.” Dean was working the case from his laptop while Castiel pored over one of the many books he never left home without, a catalog of lesser known pagan gods. So far, nothing was ringing any bells. 

“That might be wise. I wonder, how many college professors have hunters contacted about creatures more obscure and complex than a traditional ghost or werewolf?” Castiel shut his book and looked up at Dean who was staring at him over the top of his laptop, jaw open. Castiel was beginning to think of this as surprise at something he’s said, though why anything Castiel would say could surprise the hunter is beyond him.

“Well, you know, Sam is pretty good at research and stuff, he knows how to use the internet better than me. Plus I don’t really have much patience for it.”

Castiel smirked a little to himself. “I am not typically skilled with computers either, which is why I have so many books, both with me and at home.”

“Wait a minute. What if you need a book on a hunt but you didn’t bring it? Would you drive all the way home for it?” Dean shuts the laptop and folds his arms over it.

A low chuckle rose out of Castiel, something he had not expected. Dean was always managing to surprise him. “Well, my father was even worse with technology than I was, and he insisted on staying within 6 hours of home unless we knew for absolute certain what it was we were facing. Even then, there were times we were caught off guard and had to call for help.”

Dean nods slowly. “Yeah, we never had a home base. We moved around every few months, sometimes every few weeks.”

“That must have been difficult for you. When did your father begin hunting?”

Dean tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Uhh, well, we stayed in Lawrence for a couple months after my mom died, and then my we just… moved. I’m not really sure when he started, but he started teaching me about hunting when I was, like, six. He’d been leaving Sam with me for a while before that though, so I’m really not sure. Between four and six.”

Castiel frowns. “He left Sam with you when you were so young?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, he did. It was fine, though, the kid turned out to be a genius, even though it was me raising him. It’s a natural thing, I just made sure that he didn’t do anything I did, and that he did do the things I didn’t, like studying and homework.”

Castiel chewed on his lip for a few moment before speaking again, carefully. “But, Dean, your father should’ve been there to raise  _ you.” _

Dean didn’t say anything, just looked away from Castiel and shoved the laptop away. “I’m really tired. Do you mind if I turn the light off?”

Castiel sighed and shook his head, burrowing under his own covers. 

\---*---

 

All Castiel could hear of Sam Winchester was muffled garbling from Dean’s phone, but he was still glad to know that the boy was alright. Dean was explaining their case and Castiel’s presence to him. 

“Yeah, I’m telling ya, Burkittsville, Indiana, fun town.” 

Castiel frowned. “I would have to disagree.” Dean offers no response aside from rolling his eyes at him. He was beginning to feel very familiar with the gesture.

“No, no, Sam, we aren’t helpless children here.” A pause. “No, Cas figured it was probably some sort of pagan god, ‘cuz rock salt didn’t work. ...Man, I don’t know, what other proof do you need?” Dean listened for a second and then sighs. “Fine, you're on speaker. Say hi to Cas.”

“Hi, Cas.” Sam’s voice was amplified and Dean was now holding it towards Castiel so he could hear.

“Hello, Sam. How has your journey been?”

“Fine. So, explain to me how you know it’s a god and not a spirit, aside from the rock salt.”

Castiel huffs, having already explained the evidence to Dean three times. He hopes Sam catches on quicker, as Dean proclaimed him a genius. “Most spirits aren’t known to have such a specific cycle of killings. Also, the routine murders of a man and a woman is seen as a fertility rite in some cultures.”

“Yeah, and the townspeople were treating this couple really weird, too. Giving them free food, fattening them up like a Christmas turkey.” Dean added.

“The last meal, given to sacrificial victims.” Sam sounded very subdued, as if trying to make an effort to be quiet.

“So we’re thinking a ritual sacrifice, to appease some pagan god.” Dean twiddled his thumbs on the steering wheel. Castiel was beginning to notice that he sounded slightly different as well. He figured there was still some residual anger between the two of them.

“So, a god possesses a scarecrow…”

“The scarecrow takes its sacrifice.” Dean and Castiel finished together. An awkward look was exchanged, but nothing was said of it.

“For another year, the town prospers. Their crops thrive and disease doesn’t spread.” Castiel explained what they gathered from their conversation with Emily.

“That’s hardly worth two lives.” Dean grumbled. Castiel sighed in agreement.

“So, do you know which god you're dealing with?” Sam inquired.

“Nope, not yet.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Cas made sure to comment, just so Sam is aware.

“Well, if you find out what it is, you can find a way to kill it.”

“I know. We’re actually on our way to a local community college, we’ve got an appointment with the professor. You know, because Cas doesn’t know how to use a computer-”

“That is not what I said.”

“-and I don’t have my trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research. Not that you're not a good sidekick, Cas.”

“I am not your sidekick.”

Sam laughed, quietly still. “You know, if you're hinting you need my help, just ask.”

“I’m not hinting anything. We got this, right Cas?”

“I suppose that depends on how this appointment goes, but even so, we always have the option of burning the orchard.”

“Let’s not go there.” Dean shook his head at Cas and looked down at the phone. “Actually… uh, Sammy, I want you to know- I mean, don’t think-”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, too.” Dean looked infinitely grateful that Sam apologized first and glanced at Castiel nervously, but Castiel pretended to not be paying attention, looking out the window.

“Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life.”

“Are you serious?” Castiel was still ‘not paying attention.’

“Yeah… you’ve always known what you want, and you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I-” Castiel looked up at this and studied Dean’s face before turning slowly back to the window. “Anyway. I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Castiel felt awe in Sam’s voice, amazement. Castiel wondered how often it was that Dean expresses his feelings. 

“Say you’ll take care of yourself.” 

“I will.” Sam promises.

Dean nodded. “Call me when you find Dad.”

“Okay. Bye Dean, bye Cas.”

“Goodbye Sam” Dean flipped his phone shut without responding and they rode for a few minutes in silence until Castiel turned to his companions and asked, “Did he seem quiet to you?”

Dean snorted “Who knows what kinda people you pick up, hitchhiking. Who knows where he spent the night.” Castiel shuddered at the thought.

“Remind me to never hitchhike.” 

Dean laughed. “If I ever develop a sixth sense that tells me when you're about to hitchhike, I will make sure to stop you.”

“Thank you.”

They arrived at the community college, blaring music from a band Castiel was not familiar with, but Dean claimed “rules.” Castiel cannot entirely disagree. The professor met them at the door, and Dean asked most of the questions while Castiel admired their surroundings. The paintings were rather unique and overall, it wasn’t a bad campus, for a community college. 

After determining with the help of the professor that the god was a Vanir, and how to defeat it, Dean and Castiel prepared to leave. Dean thanked the professor and opened the door, where he was promptly hit in the face with the butt of a shotgun. Castiel reached for his own gun, but the man- a sheriff- was quicker than he, and before he knew it, he, too, was out cold on the ground.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel regained his consciousness in total darkness with a throbbing headache. He felt warmth under his head, but the rest of his body is cold and aching. He groaned, sitting up.

“Cas? Are you okay?” Dean asked from behind him and Castiel realizes that he must have been laying  _ on  _ Dean. Oh well. If he hadn’t been okay with it, then he would have moved him.

“I’m fine, Dean, how are you?”

“Fine. Well, this is a plot twist.”

“I can’t imagine the people of the town are too happy with us, considering we are potentially  _ ruining  _ their crops. What awful people we are.” Castiel laid back down on the floor and not Dean, folding his hands over his stomach. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness and he noticed that there were tiny beams of light coming in from slats of the roof of… wherever they were. 

Dean snorted. “Someone’s a little mad about being knocked out and then stashed in a tornado shelter, probably to starve to death.”

“I apologize, I’m being completely unreasonable.” Castiel could have seen Dean’s smile if the sun had gone out. 

“Completely.” Dean’s smile faded as he looked up. “I tried, Cas, but I don’t think we’re getting out of here.”

“I highly doubt they’re just going to leave us. They will more than likely use one of us for the ritual.” Castiel knew that it should be him that was sacrificed. After all, Dean still had a brother, a father. Castiel had no one that would miss him.

Dean said nothing for several minutes. “Cas, I know what you're thinking.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. You're thinking that you should be sacrificed because you don’t have any family and I have Sam and Dad.”

“It’s true.”

“Do you really think they’re just going to let me go if that happens?”

“I doubt they’ll kill you, just send you to prison. I’m assuming they can find something to arrest you for, I’ve yet to meet a hunter without a criminal record. I’m also assuming you can get yourself out of prison.”

“Cas, it’s my fault you're here at all-”

“I refuse to be the one to tell your brother that you died.”

Suddenly, the roof opened to reveal Emily, her aunt and uncle, and the sheriff that had accosted the hunters at the college earlier. Dean and Castiel both stood quickly, watching Emily plead with her aunt and uncle as they lead her down the stairs to join Dean and Castiel. As the door closed on them and Emily burst into tears, Castiel met Dean’s eyes in a silent challenge. Her arrival confirmed their musings, and their argument was not over.

As Castiel explained the situation to Emily, Dean tried again to break the door open, to no avail.

“I don’t understand. They’re going to kill us?” Emily asked, once she stopped crying.

“They’re going to sacrifice us. It’s different, they don’t actively kill us themselves.” Castiel explained.

“Still murder.” Dean added.

“It is most definitely still murder.” Castiel agreed.

“Are they going to sacrifice all three of us? I thought it was all just couples.” Emily looked between the two boys, and they look at each other.

“It has to be a man and a woman,” Castiel affirmed, “so just one of us.”

“One of us that isn’t Cas.”

“Dean, just think about Sam. Imagine how he is going to feel.” Castiel crossed his arms as Dean redoubled his efforts on the door.

“Cas, I told you, it’s my fault you're even here,” Dean repeated. 

“I could have very easily told you to fuck off and continued home.”

Dean paused for a moment and turned to stare at him. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear.”

“Guys! It doesn’t matter right now, I don’t think they’re gonna let you choose. If it’s a sacrifice, they’ll probably choose whoever’s biggest.” Emily pointed out.

“I’m taller than you, Cas.” 

“Why don’t we focus on _ everyone _ not dying, Dean.”

Dean gave up on the door and came down the stairs. “Awesome. So, we can destroy the god by destroying its tree, right?” Dean turned to Emily. “It would be really old. The locals would treat it with a lot of respect, y’know, like it was sacred.”

Emily thought for a minute. When she spoke, her voice was considerably calmer. “There’s this one apple tree. The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the First Tree.”

“Is it still in the orchard? Have you seen it?” Castiel asked, unfolding his arms and letting them hang loosely at his sides.

“Yeah. But I don’t remember where.”

They heard a latch click open above them, and Castiel immediately shoved Dean backwards, hoping that if they see him first, they’ll take him first. Emily clutched at her shoulders, looking as if she was about to cry again. The men had shotguns pointed at them, looking somber. Emily’s aunt announced, “It’s time.”

They all took deep breaths. Dean clutched Castiel’s elbow. Emily took several steps back. “Come on. All of ya.”

“I thought the ritual only called for two people.” Castiel protested. 

“Well, thanks to you two, we’re late on our payment. It’s angry at us. We decided a little extra portion would help appease it. And if it doesn’t take one of you, I’m sure we’ll find something to blame you for. The murders of my niece and your friend, maybe.” The hunters glanced at each other.

“That settles that, I guess.” Dean muttered and Castiel would have smacked him but suddenly they were all being dragged to the surface and led to be tied to the trees. 

Castiel was tied to the same tree as Dean. “More chance it’ll take you both,” the sheriff explained.

“How many people have you killed, sheriff? How much blood is on your hands?” Castiel resisted the urge to kick Dean.

“We don’t kill people.” The sheriff defended.

“No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?” Castiel does kick him now, a sharp knock on his leg, as they are right next to each other.

The sheriff just walked away and pointed another gun at them. Castiel can vaguely hear Emily pleading with her aunt and uncle. He just stared at the sky and took in his surroundings, probably the last things he will see, feel. He felt leaves under his legs, the tree bark chafing against his back, and Dean’s arm was warm, even through the leather. It’s not terrible. As their captors and murders walked away, Dean called out, “I hope your apple pie is freakin’ worth it!”

“At those prices…” Castiel mumbled, and Dean could barely smile at him.

“So what’s the plan?” Emily asked.

Dean and Castiel looked at each other. “We’re working on it,” Dean grumbled. 

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Castiel muttered back. Dean glared and kicked him.

Night fell. They were all still tied to trees, Dean was still squirming, Emily was still trying not to cry, and Castiel was still trying to catch a glimpse of the stars. They were all starting to panic. 

Castiel could see Emily shake her head out of the corner of his eye. “Neither of you have a plan, do you?”

“I’m working on it!” Dean insisted, still. So far his plan was trying to magically make his hands smaller so he could slip through the rope.

Castiel sighed, exasperated. He attempted to twist around and determine if the scarecrow had moved, but he couldn’t quite find it. He turned to Emily. “Can you see the scarecrow? Has it moved?”

Emily twisted, and then sighed. “I can’t see.”

Then they heard footsteps. Castiel looked back up briefly, and then gave up on the stars. He turned to Dean, who was now trying more frantically than ever to free himself. He was about to say something, anything, a last will and testament in case the scarecrow was only interested in one male and one female, but then-

“Dean?” Castiel recognized the voice as Sam’s and he and Dean sighed in unison, slumping in their ropes.

Sam came into view and Dean sighed again. “Oh, I take everything back I said, I’m so happy to see you.” Sam crouched down and began cutting his brother loose. “How’d you get here?”

“I- uh. I stole a car.”

Both Dean and Castiel laughed at the guilt in his voice. “That’s my boy!” Dean exclaimed. “Keep an eye on that scarecrow, it could come alive at any minute.” The ropes fell away from Dean’s wrists and he stood.

“What scarecrow?” Castiel whipped his head around to stare at Sam, and Emily does the same. 

“Shit. Quick, cut her loose, we gotta get outta here.” Dean spun on his heel to face Castiel again and crouched, pulling a small knife out of his boot. He made quick work of Castiel’s ropes and helped him to his feet. Sam and Emily were ready to go in the same moment, and they all began to navigate their way out of the orchard. 

“Alright. So, the sacred tree you were talking about.” Sam prompted.

“It’s the source of it’s power.” Dean informed him.

“So let’s find it and burn it!”

“Oh dear, why didn’t we think of that?” Castiel growled. Sam huffed.

“Sorry about him, he got hit in the head, apparently it shook quite a bit of sarcasm loose.” Castiel could tell he was rolling his eyes. “We’ll do that in the morning, let’s just shag ass before leatherface catches up.”

They almost made it to the road, but were stopped by the townspeople, back with their shotguns and flashlights. They slowed to a stop, completely surrounded. The opposing groups regarded each other for a few moments, until they heard a growling noise somewhere in the trees. Castiel unconsciously pressed closer to Dean. 

“Please,” Emily bargained, “just let us go.”

“It’ll be over quickly, I promise.” Castiel wondered how anyone can send a girl that they  raised since she was a child to her death, simply for good crops and less disease.

“Please!”

“Emily, you have to let him take you, you have to-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, due to the stick in his stomach. His wife screamed along with Emily, who buried her face in Dean’s chest. Castiel felt sick. Gore was to be expected as a hunter, but that didn’t mean Castiel had to like it. When he fell, the scarecrow was behind him, terrifying as when Castiel first saw him, probably more so. The Vanir took the couple, Emily’s aunt and uncle, and Scotty and the sheriff bolted. The hunters ran the other way, pulling Emily along with them. 

They reached the road and Castiel sighed, leaning against the fence. They heard the Vanir growl, but they doubted it would be coming back for them. Castiel looked up. He could see the stars. 

 

\---*---

 

They returned the following day with gasoline and a lighter. None of them had slept that night, so they’d all sat, sipping coffee around the table while Sam and Dean traded stories of their time apart and Emily learned the truth about the horrors of the world. Castiel told everyone about the scarecrow he had made with his class in the third grade, and they all speculated as to how many killer scarecrows there could be in the world. 

They wandered the orchard for a while in the direction the Vanir had dragged Emily’s aunt and uncle until Emily started to recognize her surroundings as near the First Tree. There were strange markings on the trunk that Castiel took pictures of. Sam stepped forward and doused the tree in gasoline. None of them said anything. Dean lifted a branch from the ground and lit the end of it on fire. Once the fire caught, Emily reached for the stick. 

“Let me,” she commanded, her voice steel. 

“You know the whole town’s gonna die,” Dean reminded her. 

“Good.” Certain things in life changed a person, forever, and Castiel would be surprised if Emily was ever the same after being offered up for sacrifice by her aunt and uncle before watching them die. 

Emily threw the stick down and they all stood back and watched the flames devour the ancient tree. If Castiel felt bad about ruining the town, driving people out of their homes because they just couldn’t find income, all he had to do to tamper that guilt was glance at the rope burn on his wrists, on Emily’s, on Dean’s. People could find new homes, and everyone else got sick. Death could not be reversed. 

They drove Emily to a bus station. She couldn’t stay in that town, in the state, even. She said she was going to start over. Castiel remembered being a lot like her. He told her to call him if she ever needed anything, and hinted that there may be a florist shop in New York looking to hire. She thanked him and the Winchesters and was on her way. 

“Think she’s gonna be alright?” Sam asked his brother.

Dean shrugged. “Both of you left home and made it on your own, younger than her.”

“That’s different, Dean. Sam and I both grew up as hunters, which requires a certain level of resourcefulness and-”

“Cas. She’ll be fine.” Dean rolled his eyes at him,  _ again.  _

“And the rest of the townspeople, they’ll just- get away with it?” Sam looked over their heads, towards Burkittsville. 

“What’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough.” Dean turned and started walking back to the car. “Cas, are you still parked by the side of the road? That probably isn’t good.”

“It’s been there for two days, Dean, in a fairly secluded area. I’m sure it’s fine. And if it’s not, guess who’s driving me to Denver.” Castiel strolled ahead of him to lean against the back door of the car. He understood Sam’s shotgun right. It had been very clearly established. Dean, of course, just rolled his eyes. 

“So, I’m taking Cas to his car, and then maybe  _ Denver,  _ what about you, Sammy? Can I drop you off somewhere?” Sam couldn’t see Dean’s face but Castiel could, and it was so brokenly hopeful that Castiel was ready to hit Sam if he said yes. 

Sam smiled a little and shook his head. “No, I think you're stuck with me.”

Dean stopped and turned to his brother. “What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t. I still wanna find Dad. And you're still a pain in the ass. But, Jess, and Mom,” Sam shook his head, “they’re both gone. Dad is God knows where… You and me. We’re all that’s left of our family. So, uh, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together.”

Dean’s eyes flicked briefly to Castiel, who was once again pretending to not be listening. He was far away enough to get away with it, he thought. “Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful.” Sam shoved him, and Castiel stopped pretending. 

“You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat dude, both of you.”

Dean circled around the car. “Yeah, right. I had a plan, I’d’ve gotten out.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at  _ him  _ this time. “We’re very grateful to you, Sam.”

“Thank you. And thanks for looking out for my brother.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job.” 

“Hey man. You were there.” Sam patted him on the shoulder and got in the car. Castiel smiled a little to himself and joins them.

“So, Cas, what’ll it be, Zeppelin or Metallica?” Dean grinned at him from the front seat.

“What? You're letting him choose the music?” Sam protests. 

Castiel just stretches out in the back and drapes an arm over his eyes. “Slow songs. I have a head injury.”

“Now you're just milking it.”

“Slow.”

“Zeppelin it is, then. Sammy, this is why I let Cas choose. You would have said something dumb.”

Sammy ‘pffs’ but doesn’t argue the point further. When they reached Castiel’s very intact car, he was almost sad to see the Winchesters go.

But he didn’t doubt that he’d see them again soon.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel slammed his book closed, then brought it up to his face to repeatedly slam it against his forehead. What good did scouring books do him? Books told nothing of the present, only things that had already come to pass, and this demon was in the present. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for anymore. Castiel collapsed on the table, cheek to his poor book. Maybe he should just give up.

Except.

What would his father say to that? Castiel had nightmares, every night about his cold body,  _ CASTIEL  _ etched into his chest. He often had to remind himself that John Winchester had been looking for his wife’s killer for 22 years.

But he did not want to be John Winchester. 

Castiel was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his phone ringing. Sam Winchester. He answered immediately. “Hello?”

“Cas, hey. Um. Do you know anything about miracle healing?” He sounded distressed. 

Castiel frowned. “Um. No? Sam, are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, but uh… Dean. He got hurt on a hunt, and... they say he, uh, he only has a month to live.”

Castiel felt like he’s been punched in the gut and straightened. He hadn’t known Dean for very long, sure, but he couldn’t help but consider the other man a friend. “Oh…” He was aware of how small his voice sounds, but hoped Sam doesn’t comment on it. “My question stands.”

“I’m in a steady state of denial. He’s in the hospital, and I’m here, calling anyone I think can help. We’re in Colorado Springs, actually.”

“Oh. I- I’ll look into it, Sam. If you want, you could come out here and look through the books I have, it’s no more than an hour’s drive.” Castiel bit his lip, worried that that was a ridiculous offer.

“Actually… do you have an extra bedroom? If I know Dean, he’s gonna be checking himself out any time now, and you know how motel beds are.”

“Of course. As long as you're comfortable with sleeping on the couch. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just keep him in he hospital?”

“There’s nothing they can do for him.” Sam said softly. “Could you just text me the address? We’ll be there in a while.”

“I can do that. Goodbye, Sam. I’ll see you shortly.”

“Bye Cas.”

Castiel hung up the phone and glanced around his absolute mess of a house. He sighed and began reshelving his books, which took longer than one would think. Since he could not let Dean or Sam in his childhood bedroom under any circumstances, he cleaned the master bedroom for Dean to sleep in and located extra blankets for Sam. Then he realized that his fridge was severely understocked and rushed to the grocery store. His house still looked like a disaster, but in a clean way. It was still devoid of any and all personal touches, or a working TV, and it was still overflowing with books, but it looked like a home. Half a home, at least. 

Sam knocked on the door just as Castiel put the last dish in the dishwasher. He opened the door with his hands still wet, and flinched at the sight of Dean, with bags under his eyes and looking extremely sickly. Dean, however, grinned. “Nice pjs, Cas.”

Castiel looked down at himself. He was wearing an oversize bee shirt and yellow and black plaid flannel pajama pants under his trenchcoat. He’d completely forgotten that he was wearing it. Oh dear Lord, that’s what all the stares in the grocery store had been about. He blushed furiously and tried to stammer a response, but Dean just laughed and heaved himself through the doorway. He appeared unsteady, so Castiel reached out and placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders to stabilize him. Sam followed, closing the door behind him. Dean lurched forward at the sound, right into Castiel. Castiel looped an arm around his waist in an effort to keep Dean standing, but still ended up holding most of the other man’s body weight. 

“And to think,” Dean muttered as Castiel rights him, still with one hand on his shoulder. “I used to have the grace of a swan.”

“You face planted into a table last week.” Sam argue, standing behind Dean in case he toppled backwards.

“Okay, that’s because  _ someone  _ left their clothes in the middle of the floor.” Dean turned and glared at Sam, who just rolled his eyes and muttered something Castiel couldn’t hear. “Cas, do you seriously live here?”

“Um. Yes? Why?” Castiel had a feeling he knew why Dean was asking, but can’t imagine that if Dean had a “home base”, as he called it, it would look much different.

“I don’t know, it looks kinda… impersonal.” Castiel led Dean to the couch, and he sunk into it, making himself look very small.

“I’m not one for decoration,” Castiel stated, obviously.

Dean glanced at him from his slouching position and raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

Sam shrugged. “I don't know, it has a certain… charm.” Dean and Castiel each directed a skeptical stare at him. 

“Sam, you don't have to attempt to spare my feelings. I am well aware of the lack of appeal my home holds, and I happen to not care.” Dean snickered at his comment, while Sam blushed furiously.

“No, really, it’s-”

“Are either of you hungry?” Castiel interrupted, making Sam blush even more. 

“I’m  starved,” Dean announced, then attempted to stand, and immediately stumbled. Sam managed to catch him before he hits the floor. 

“Dean, remember that you gotta take it easy. Just- sit here and rest, the food isn’t going anywhere.” Sam patted his grumbling brother on the shoulder and followed Castiel into the kitchen. “What do you have?”

“Well, I have frozen pizza, chicken nuggets, and, uh… toaster strudels. I’m not sure what those are.” Castiel listed, pulling various food items out of his freezer. 

“Do you have anything… healthier?” Sam opened the pantry and scanned the selection there, which was still very unimpressive.

“Healthy food isn’t gonna make me healthier at this point, Sam.” Dean pointed out from the living room, and as much as Castiel wished he wasn’t, Dean was right.

“I mean for me, asshat, but sorry for trying to help you live longer.” Sam snarked. Castiel rolled his eyes at the both of them and suggested some frozen berries to Sam. Sam accepted, and he stained his fingers purple while the pizza was cooking. Castiel sat with Dean as he explained what exactly had happened to him to cause his premature death. 

“I mean, this is all just a risk of the job, you know? I mean, Cas, how long do you think you're gonna live?” Dean’s flippancy about his own mortality unnerved Castiel, but he swallowed his pain and answers.

“I have no clue. Some hunters die very young, and others live long enough to be seniors. I suppose it depends on the hunt as well as the person.”

Dean nodded. “I guess. Hey, Cas, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Dean.”

“Make sure Sammy’s in the second group for me?”

“Dean, you're going to live. Sam will find something that can save you.”

“Maybe, but- if he doesn’t?” 

Castiel met Dean’s earnest, pleading eyes and found himself unable to resist him, for some reason. He sighs. “Very well.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Sam emerged from the kitchen, pizza in hand. “Cas, you need oven mitts. I had to use, like, 20 paper towels to get this out.” He set the steaming, uncut pie between the two of them on the sofa. Castiel sighed and retrieved the pizza cutter while Sam sat on the floor to eat more of his berries. Cutting a pizza on a cushion was harder than it seemed and Castiel nearly gave up several times, but eventually he got the pizza into 8 equal slices, of which he and Dean each had four. 

When Dean started to nod off on the couch, Castiel gently woke him and guided the hunter into the master bedroom.

“Wait, wait, Cas, where’re you gonna sleep?” Dean mumbled, leaning against Castiel for support. 

“It’s fine Dean, I’ll sleep in my own room.” Castiel assured him. “Would you like some pajamas?”

Dean fiddled with the hem of his shirt, looking slightly less tired. “Nah, I’m good… hey, Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“I- um- you can stay in here, with me, if you want. It is your room, after all, and I don’t-”

Castiel stopped the boy’s rambling by touching his shoulder lightly. “I understand. I will go prepare the couch for Sam to sleep on and then return here.”

Dean nodded, relieved. “Right, I’ll just- right.”

Castiel helped Dean sit on the bed and then departed to set up Sam’s sleeping place, heart thumping. Why did Dean want him to sleep with him? Perhaps he was afraid of something happening while he slept… but if that were the case, wouldn’t he ask Sam? Or did he truly feel guilty about taking Castiel’s bed? Whatever the reason, it was certainly nothing that should be making Castiel panic like this. Dean was his friend, and friends could share a bed, especially if one of them were dying. Castiel paused before entering the living room and decided not to mention anything to Sam. It wasn’t really worth mentioning, after all. 

Castiel assembled the pullout bed quickly and bid Sam goodnight, not knowing that Sam, of course, was not going to sleep, instead choosing to spend every moment he had finding a way to save his brother.

When Castiel returned to his room, Dean was in bed, under the covers, staring at the ceiling. Castiel, already in pajamas, joined him. 

They were silent for several heartbeats, and then Dean sighed. “I never did find my Dad. Or the thing that murdered my mom. Those were literally the only goals I ever had in my life, and I couldn’t finish either of them.”

Castiel reached across the bed and found Dean’s hand. “Someone will. It might even be you.”

Dean smiled and squeezed Castiel’s hand before exhaustion overtook them both and they fell asleep…

 

\---*---

 

In Castiel’s dream, Dean was still dying. He lay in a hospital bed, various tubes attached to various parts of his body. His hospital gown was drenched in blood, as were the blankets on his bed. When Castiel looked down at himself, he was shocked to discover that the blood was coming from  _ him,  _ as there was a jagged piece of glass lodged in chest. He thinks it might be in his heart, and with the realization that he is injured comes the  _ pain.  _ He sinks to his knees, gasping for air, trying to scream for help, but the only other person around is Dean, who is somewhere Castiel cannot reach him.

He falls straight through the floor, into a pitch black pit that seems to go on forever, ending in a lake of lava. Castiel falls and falls, and then quite suddenly he is burning away, lost to drown in a sea of fire…

 

\---*---

 

Dean Winchester did not have nightmares, not yet. It would take a lot more than almost weekly gruesome battles with monsters and near death experiences to disturb his sleep. Castiel, however, did have nightmares, nightmares that often woke him from his sleep, which  _ did _ end up disturbing Dean from his.

“Cas? Cas, what’s wrong?” he asked groggily, trying to sit up but ultimately realizing that remaining where he was would be best. 

“Nothing, Dean, I’m fine.” Castiel answered shakily, a clear indicator that he was not fine. 

“Bullshit,” the room was quiet for a moment, as Castiel had no response to that. “Did you have a nightmare? Sammy has ‘em too, except they were rarer before…”

“Before what?”

Dean sighed, slightly uncomfortable with having to explain his brother’s probably private woes to someone who was… well, Castiel. Who Sam, at least, barely knew, even if Dean considered him a friend. However, if there was anyone Dean trusted to handle this new information with tact, it was Cas. “He had this girlfriend… Jessica. She died, and Sam… well, he’s pretty beat up about it. He pretends not to be, but he has these nightmares, and he barely sleeps.”

Cas was quiet for a second before falling back into his pillows. “Oh. How did she die?”

Dean sighed. “The same way our mom did. Burned to death on the ceiling.” Dean glanced at Cas to gauge his reaction, but Castiel just frowned.

“That sounds… oddly specific. And eerily familiar.”

“What?” Dean sat straight up, screw his heart problems.

Castiel sat up too, only he pushed Dean back down lightly. “I went to Boston, not too terribly long ago, they have a rather famous section of books on demons, and I believe that was how one particularly powerful demon was believed to attack its victims.”

“What? When? What demon? Why?”

“Sometime in the 14th century, and in the 20th and 21st, apparently. I don’t recall the demon’s name, and as to the why… in the 14th century, demons tended to take and sacrifice children to spread fear and misery. If the mother would happen to be checking on the baby at the time, she would be killed in that manner. The baby, however, would be left there as well, and sometimes they were saved,” Castiel explained, looking more and more awake with each word he spoke.

“Well then… do you think it’s happening again? Except Sam and Jess didn’t have a baby. I mean, if that’s true, the way our mom died makes sense, because she was in Sammy’s nursery, but-”

“I don’t think this is the same thing, Dean. I think this demon may have something personal against your family, or perhaps just against Sam.”

Dean lay awake in the dark long after Cas had gone to sleep. Why would demons be after his brother? Sure, he was able to predict the future, sort of, but not for just  _ anything _ , and he hadn’t had that ability growing up. 

Dean decided he would tell Sam about this tomorrow, leaving out the part where the demons were after him, specifically. He considered calling his father- then he decided not to bother.

 

\---*---

 

The Winchesters left the next morning, and if he had to be honest with himself, Castiel was sad to see them go. Sam had apparently stayed up all night looking for any way to cure Dean and had found something, so they packed up early and were off to Nebraska, he believed. Castiel was glad that Dean may yet live, obviously, but he knew that their absence just meant that his days would be filled with books upon books of dead ends and a silent house and too much food.

He missed them, near strangers as they were. 

Castiel attempted to shake off his melancholy and trudged into his pitiful backyard with a book he actually enjoyed reading,  _ A Tale of Two Cities _ . His paperback was wrinkled and bent, but he had never considered buying a new copy, as it was a gift from Jim Murphy, a priest/hunter who had taken care of Castiel as a child despite it undoubtedly being inconvenient. Certain things could just never be replaced. 

Castiel didn’t receive an update from the Winchesters until the next day. He was in the kitchen, eating microwaved chicken nuggets as his dinner, still in his pajamas from days before, when his phone buzzed unfamiliarly. Apparently it was his text alert. Castiel couldn’t remember ever receiving a text message in his life.

 

Dean:

all better:)

 

Castiel sighed in relief and attempted to type a response. However, he was puzzled by the keys. They only had numbers on them. How was he supposed to reply with words?

It took an embarrassing amount of time for him to figure it out, but eventually he was able to formulate a reply without any sort of trouble. He was proud of himself.

 

Cas: 

That’s a relief.

 

Dean smiled down at his phone, despite the queasy feeling in his gut. Sam rolled his eyes. “Dude, stop texting your boyfriend. I’m trying to work a case here.”

Dean scoffed at him. “It’s Cas, man. Not my boyfriend.”

“You shared a bed other night.”

“Oh, whatever. Besides, I only texted him once, like yesterday. He just now happened to respond.”

“Well if he responded after a whole day, then you shouldn’t text him back right away. Makes you seem too desperate.” Sam grinned over the top of his laptop and Dean chucked his phone at him. 

“Bitch.” 

“Jerk.”

 

\---*---

 

Dean did not end up texting Castiel back, which made him wonder if  _ he _ was supposed to text back in the first place. He suspected that that would be the last he heard of either Winchester, unless they ran into each other on another hunt, which looked unlikely as Castiel was determined to buckle down and find this demon. 

He decided that his research was too general. He considered the carvings that had adorned his father’s body. The exorcism, which had been Castiel’s first clue that the culprit was a demon. The inverted pentagrams on his thighs. The crude depiction of wings on his stomach. The seemingly random cuts across his face. The name written across his chest. Castiel’s name. 

What could it mean? Why would a demon care in the least about Castiel? The fact that it was his supposedly angelic name over a pair of wings was not lost on him. Perhaps the demons mistakenly believed that Castiel was, in fact, an angel, barring the fact that there was no such thing. Surely demons would be wary of an angel in their midst. But if that were the case, it would have been much easier to find Castiel than his father.

Maybe his name didn’t mean anything. Perhaps it was just another of the demon’s torture techniques, reminding Daniel of the son he would never see again.

Castiel stood. It was so much easier to just research demons without thinking about the personal aspect of his case. He needed to get his mind off the morbid topic. 

In a split-second decision, Castiel grabbed his wallet and drove to the closest dollar store. He located a sketchpad and a box of colored pencils, and returned home. As a child, his teachers had always praised his art abilities, and he supposed now was the time to test whether or not they held true. Castiel sat on the floor of his living room, back against the front of his couch and his teeth sunk into an apple, he opened his sketchpad and began to draw.

His first attempt was horrid. He tried to draw a tree, but it ended up looking more like a guitar. His second attempt was better, but still not anything to be proud of.

Castiel sighed and glanced out the window. The children across the street were playing tag, or so it appeared. When Castiel was growing up, a grouchy old couple with older kids had lived there. It was nice to see children playing and laughing with each other. Castiel so often missed the true value of life, living alone with few friends and even fewer loved ones. In fact, the ratio on that was 2 to 0. He didn’t laugh as easily or as often as he perhaps had once. 

It made him sad. 

Castiel turned back to his sketchpad and started drawing. The concept was rather simple, but the hunter poured his heart and soul into it. When he was done, he opened his colored pencils and began to bring his creation to life.

It was a bee. Not a complex bee, a cartoon bee, but Castiel thought his bee was much cuter than any bee that could be made to look like a real, living bee. It was round and fat, obviously, with teeny tiny wings and teeny tiny legs. It wore a smiley face, and a pink cowboy hat. It made Castiel happy. He decided to hang it on the wall, so he would see it every day and maybe be a little happier. Vaguely, he wondered what Dean would think of it, if and when he ever saw it. Certainly he would be happy that Castiel had personalized his house. 

Castiel taped his bee picture smack in the middle of the wall directly in the line of sight of the doorway. He planted his hands on his hips, admiring his work, the happy little bee, ready to bring cheer to all.

 

\---*---

 

As it turned out, Castiel didn’t have to wait long for Dean to see his bee. Several days later, he had fallen asleep at the table on one of his books when he was rudely awoken by a knock at the door. He immediately sat bolt upright, and realized that he was wearing more bee pajamas, a completely different pair than the ones he had last answered the door in. 

He sincerely hoped Dean Winchester was not behind that door. But life wasn’t that kind. 

Dean didn’t say anything as Castiel opened the door, just stared at his clothes. He looked up and met Castiel’s eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, Cas, I really just can’t ignore this. What’s up with the bees?”

Castiel shrugged. “I like bees.”

“Everyone likes bees, Cas, they make, like, honey and shit, but- how many pairs of bee pajamas do you have?”  
“Um. I prefer not to answer that question.”

“Jesus Christ- is that a  _ picture  _ of a bee? Hanging on your wall, all by itself, just- Jesus Christ, Cas.”

Castiel coughed and hastily changed the subject. “It’s good to see that you're well, Dean. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just wanted to check up on you, and… stuff. See what the bees are up to.”

Castiel blushed. “Do you want to come inside or…?”

Dean hesitated and glanced back at the car before shrugging. “Sure. Sammy’s asleep in the car, or he would come in too.” Castiel stepped aside to let the other man enter, and Dean made a bit of a show of looking around. “So no other decoration, just the one bee picture. Huh. You're a little strange, Cas.”

“So I’ve been told. How exactly were you healed?”

Dean flopped onto the couch with a sigh.“Oh, man, that’s a sucky story. There was this preacher guy, and his wife was controlling a reaper, so whoever he chose to heal would live, and then someone else would die of what they had. It sucked. We didn’t realize until after the guy fixed me and then this other guy up and dies of  _ my  _ heart problems.” 

“That sounds awful.” Castiel handed him a cup of coffee, despite it being 8 o’clock at night. He had a feeling that if Sam was asleep, Dean had a bit of driving ahead of him. 

“It sucked. Especially because while we were hanging around Roy’s- the preacher- place, I got to know this girl who had brain cancer. And she was going to be saved.”

“But you had to stop the reaper before she could.” Castiel seated himself on the couch next to Dean and sipped his own cup of coffee.

“Exactly. I’m still not sure we did the right thing. I mean, I know it’s really not people’s place to mess with who lives and who dies and the supernatural and stuff, but I mean, they weren’t necessarily killing people, just… making people trade places.” 

Castiel sat back and thought on that for a moment. Dean just stared off into space. “Well… you felt terrible when you discovered you lived only because someone else died. And no one deserves to live more than anyone else, but it’s not fair to force someone into a death that shouldn’t have been theirs.”

Dean turned and smiled at him. “That’s pretty wise, there, Cas.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Too bad it’s really hard to keep a depressing mood going with that bee picture there.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “That is the purpose of it.”

Dean grinned. “Well, I really should be going now. Call if you need anything, got it?”

“And the same to you, Dean.” Dean patted Castiel awkwardly on the shoulder and then he was gone, leaving Castiel to marvel at how quickly he finished an entire mug of coffee. 

 

\---*---

 

Castiel stopped sleeping. During the day, he sprawled himself out on his lawn and read and reread every book he could get his hands on. 

He was going nowhere. 

During the nights, he brought his books inside and mostly forgot to sleep. He had very little contact with the Winchesters, other than the occasional call asking for help, never with the hunt itself, but if Sam failed in his research and they needed information that Castiel was likely to have or be able to acquire. Nothing truly exciting happened, and Castiel was getting bored. 

He was beginning to consider abandoning his research yet again to chase a hunt, just to do something, when his neighbor, a woman about his age, parent of twin baby girls, approached him on his lawn. Castiel was forced to stand at her arrival. 

“Hi! Me and my husband live next door, and we couldn't help but notice that you seem to be living here, and I'm so pleased because I grew up just down the street and this house was always empty. It's funny though, I didn't see any sale signs and I've tried to find it on the market a million times, but never found anything.” All this time she wore a big, only slightly genuine, smile. 

Castiel struggled not to groan. “Actually, I've lived here my entire life. My family owns the house. I lived here until I was thirteen and then we moved away.”

“Wow, really? Wait a minute, what year did you graduate?”

“1997.” Castiel’s father believed he could have graduated much earlier, but Castiel refused to let him lie on the registration forms. 

“Oh my gosh, me too! We must’ve been in class together when we were kids then, right?”

“I suppose.” Castiel was vaguely aware that he was being rude, but he was tired and not a fan of the conversation.

“Wait, hang on I'm trying to place you. Thirteen? Oh jeez. I think I remember you. It's something really unique, right? I know this.”

“Castiel,” he supplied. 

The woman snapped. “Right! Castiel Novak. I remember now. In P.E. class you beat everyone at, like, everything, but you never played any sports and you were always reading.”

That was due to near daily training and late nights with his father and a practice dummy. Hunting was a dangerous profession, and the preparation was not to be taken lightly. “Yes, that was me.”

“Well, I'm Judy Gillan, you probably don't remember me.” Castiel did, actually. She had been placed next to him in every class, without fail, and he told her so. She laughed a weird fake laugh. “So, Castiel, are you married?”

“No.”

“Well, we're still young. I have a husband, Todd, and twin baby girls. They're a handful. And identical! I'm gonna have my work cut out for me in a couple years.”

Castiel nodded, and was about to spout some excuse about having to go inside, but his phone started ringing. It was Dean, obviously. “One moment, Judy. Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. Are you busy?”

“Not terribly so,” he responded, with a quick glance at Judy. 

“Great! Alright, so we’re on our way to Mississippi, and Sam is saying that the fucking prequel  _ Star Wars _ movies have a better storyline. Tell him he's wrong.”

“…Is this what you called me for?”

“We need a third vote.”

Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes at Judy, who smiled softly. “Dean, I fear you're forgetting that I’ve only seen  _ The Lion King _ .”

“Just say Sam’s wrong.”

“But what if I watch the movies and decide I agree with him?”

“Trust me, Cas, you won’t.”

“I refuse to make this decision..”

“Asshole. You know, we really don’t know anyone else who can vote...”

Castiel sighed and pulled the phone away from his ear. “Judy, have you seen  _ Star Wars _ ?”

“Um. Yes? Is that what you're arguing about?”

“Do you prefer the prequels or the originals?”

“Uh. Originals? Doesn’t everyone?”

“Judy says she prefers the originals.” Castiel informs Dean.

“Who the hell is Judy?”

“My neighbor. And former classmate. Is that all?”

“Yeah, Cas. You know what though-” Castiel hung up. He was already being rude enough to Judy, and listening to Sam and Dean get along and be brothers and have stupid arguments like that… it hurt his heart, made him jealous of the things he’d never had. 

“Who was that?” Judy asked. 

“A friend of mine,” Castiel responded simply. 

“Boyfriend?” Castiel blushed and ended the conversation quickly. 

Briefly, as he was preparing to sleep (in his bed for once), he wondered what Dean had been about to say. 

 

\---*---

 

“Yeah, Cas. You know what though, you should come-” Dean pulled the phone away from his ear with a frown. “He hung up on me.”

Sam gasped mockingly. “Without an “I love you”? Are you okay?”

“Shut up. He has a girlfriend, apparently.” Dean grumbled. 

His little brother rolled his eyes. “You're such a girl.”

“Says Rapunzel over there.”

“Okay, seriously though dude, what is it with- with Cas?  _ Do _ you like him? Is there anything there? I honestly can't tell.”

“Shut up.” Dean fixed his gaze firmly on the road and Sam glanced at him and decided that there was definitely something there. 

 

\---*---

 

In retrospect, Castiel should have just stayed home.

Then he wouldn’t be where he was now: locked in a metal cage, stripped to just one shirt, his shoes and various weapons nowhere to be found, Sam Winchester passed out beside him and a grumpy man trapped in the cage next door.

He was having a swell time. 

Once again, Castiel had found himself afflicted with cabin fever and decided to take a break to hunt. However,  _ naturally,  _ he’d run into the Winchesters at a bar, and when he and Sam left the building to return to their motel (because they’d chosen the same one again), they’d ended up knocked out and-

here. They could only wish Dean would be coming for them.

Finally Sam woke up, groaning. Castiel stopped pretending to be asleep (so he wouldn’t have to listen to Jenkins ranting to him, as he’d already done that for about an hour) and sat up. “Sam.”

“Cas? Where the hell are we?”

“I haven’t the slightest.”

“Oh, well look who’s awake!” Jenkins jeered. Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Sam, that’s Albert Jenkins, the man who went missing.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he chuckled a bit. “We were looking for you.”

“Oh yeah? Well no offense, but this is a-”

“A piss-poor rescue, yes you’ve already said. Sam, are you okay?” 

The younger boy sighed, scrubbing at his hair. “I think so. Have you tried to figure out a way out? What these things are?”

“No, Sam, I’ve been sitting here in my cage this whole time, making my grocery list.”

Sam glared at him. “I think Mr. Sunshine is rubbing off on you,” he grumbled. “Have you seen these things yet?”

“I’ve only been awake a few hours more than you, Sam. Everything but him has been quiet. I suggest you ask him things.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because I have avoided it for three hours and it’d look incredibly suspicious at this point.”

Sam gave Castiel a look that he was fairly certain could be coined as a ‘bitch face’, as his father had called it. “Hey, Jenkins, you know where we are?”

Jenkins shrugged. “Smells like the country to me.”

Sam nodded a bit. “Have you seen these things?”

“What are you talking about?” The doors started to open and Castiel rolled into a crouching position.

“The things that grabbed us, what did they look like?”

“See for yourself!” Castiel and Sam pressed closer to the bars to catch a glimpse of these monsters, but when they entered, the hunters found themselves perhaps even more disgusted than they had been initially.

The  _ humans  _ opened the door to Jenkins’ cage, slid a plate of food inside, and relocked it. When passing Sam and Castiel’s cage, they simply banged on the bars and the hunters jumped back.

“I’ll be damned. They’re just people,” Sam whispered.

“I suppose that’s bound to happen,” Castiel responded.

“Yeah. What’d you expect?” Jenkins spoke condescendingly whilst shoving enemy sausages in his face. Castiel wasn’t sure he was in a place to judge.

“How often are you fed?” Castiel asked.

“Once a day. They use that thing over there to open the cage.”

“And that’s the only time you see them?” Sam questioned.

“So far, yeah. But I’m waitin’”

Castiel flinched at the implication, but Sam just sent them confused glances. “Waiting for what?”  
“Sam, people don’t kidnap random people to keep them in cages for the rest of their lives. They usually have… ulterior motives.” Castiel tried to explain as delicately as he could. Jenkins had a different approach.

“Ned Beatty time, man,” Castiel, of course, did not understand the reference, but Sam must have because he, too, flinched, but carried on like he was unbothered.

“I think that’s the least of your worries right now, man.”

“Sam, I believe that sitting in this cage means we have two worries: getting out of the cage and ‘Ned Beatty time’, truthfully.” Castiel insisted.

“Okay, we don’t know that’s what they want.”

“What do you think they want?” Jenkins asked. He sounded genuinely afraid, finally. 

Sam, meanwhile, had spotted a loose piece of the contraption in the mechanics of the cage and was tugging on it. “Depends on who they are.”

“They’re a bunch of psycho hillbilly rednecks, is you ask me, looking for love in all the wrong places.” Jenkins insisted. 

Sam didn’t bother answering. “That is the most probable answer, Sam.”

Sam still said nothing and all three were silent for several minutes as Sam tugged on the tube-like thing he had gotten ahold of.

“Why don’t you give it up there, Sammy, there’s no way out.” Jenkins jeered. 

Sam scowled. “Don’t… call me… Sammy!” The contraption came loose and a metal bracket fell to the ground.

Sam announced this to Jenkins, who, true to form, rolled his eyes and sarcastically stated, “Oh, thank God, a bracket, now we got ‘em, huh?” Seconds after he had finished, the door to his cage sprung open. Castiel didn’t know much about mechanics and didn’t believe much in luck, so this put him on edge immediately. Sam, too, became instantly tense. “Must have been a short. Maybe you knocked something loose.” Jenkins made to climb out of the cage, and Sam warned him not to, but he just continued, reassuring them that he would find help and come save them, and both hunters tried to call him back, but he was already gone.

Sam sighed and slumped against the bars. “Dean would know how to get out of here.”

“How?”

“He’s good with this kind of stuff. He would know what fucking thing to pull on.” 

Jenkins’ door shut and locked on its own and Sam slapped the bars. Castiel sighed and put his head in his hands. “Do you think your brother is looking for us?”

“If he’s not, he’s either in another secret cage room or he’s dead. Which I doubt, so he’s looking for us. And he’ll find us.” Sam assured him.

“What if he doesn’t get here in time?”

“I’m pretty positive we can take a couple of humans. We’ve been fighting things three times their skill for forever. We’ll be fine.”

“Jenkins won’t.”

Sam had no answer. 

 

\---*---

 

Dean was getting antsy. This car ride was far too long, had been even before the awkward silences after the cop had realized she was riding with a felon. Sam and Cas were out there somewhere, dead or dying or hurt and Dean was going into this blind. He had no idea what type of creature could have taken them, and he was afraid. He didn’t think he could bear to lose Sam forever, and he was beginning to think of Cas as someone he could trust, like a close friend. Plus, he’d meant it when he’d told Sam he couldn’t find his father alone. 

“So,” the officer started. “I know Sam’s your cousin and all, but who’s this Castiel?”

“Cas? Cas is just a friend. We actually almost never meet him on purpose, it’s kinda uncanny how we all show up in the same town sometimes.”

“Mmm. So you're close?”

“I don’t know. I would say he’s the only friend I have.”

“Okay. So you know about his father?” She was acting weird, and it worried Dean.

“I know he died. What do you know?”

Kathleen hesitated. “I really shouldn’t tell you.”

“Please.”

She sighed. “Well, I could’ve sworn I’d heard the name ‘Novak,’ before, and I have a friend, Jenny, who was on his dad’s case. She brought Castiel in to identify his body, but it was just awful, because Daniel Novak was  _ tortured  _ to death, and he had all sorts of awful things carved into his skin, including the name Castiel, right on his chest, and the poor kid had to see that. Can you imagine?”

She said it all so casually, but Dean felt like he was about to throw up. He couldn’t imagine, actually. That sounded like absolute hell. No wonder Cas had nightmares. “I had no idea.”

“Jenny told me she couldn’t get ahold of Castiel, and maybe you can tell him this, but they got a lead on a girl who was seen leaving the crime scene on traffic cameras. They tracked her all over the country, but always seemed to be a few steps behind her. The really interesting thing is, they found her in Boston heading into the library-”

“Cas went to Boston for the library,” Dean realized. He was suddenly gripped with the fear that maybe the elder Novak had been killed to get to Castiel.

Maybe they already got him.

“They spotted your Cas walking in on the same day. Spooky, huh? Walks into a library with his father’s murderer and has no idea.”

Dean hunches forward, reeling. “What was her name?”

“Uh, Meg, I think. Meg Masters.”

Dean thought of the help Castiel had given them on their search, and of the help he could now offer in Cas’, and an idea began to form in his mind.

 

\---*---

 

What seemed like hours after Jenkins’ departure, the hooded men returned. They held two plates of food and when they opened the door to Sam and Castiel’s cage, one of them reached forward and yanked Castiel forward by the collar of his shirt and out of the cage. Sam shouted something incomprehensible, and for the first time since the kidnapping itself, Castiel was afraid. There were at least two guns on them and Sam was correct, they didn’t know what these people wanted. Luckily, though, all they did to him was force him into Jenkins’ old cage. Castiel took this to assume he wasn’t coming back. He was left with a plate of sausage that he didn’t even want to look at and a cup of water. 

“Finally, I get my own room,” Sam deadpanned. Castiel found it in him to smirk a bit. 

 

\---*---

 

Dean tugged on his handcuffs furiously.  _ Why  _ did she have to figure out the truth? Better yet, why did these fucking monster kidnappers take his baby, his brother, Cas? He sighed and looked around for anything to use as a lock pick. He stood there uselessly. Why the fuck did she have to go alone? Finally, he spotted the radio antennae. It looked within reach, and if he could break it off, that might work. He began to reach for it when he heard footsteps, drawing nearer to him. They must’ve gotten Kathleen and were coming for her car. He reached with renewed effort and freed himself right in the nick of time. He crept to the other side of the car right as the monsters were coming towards it. And then he was gone, into the woods. 

 

\---*---

 

Castiel didn’t even flinch when their kidnappers shoved a woman into Sam’s cell. She was wearing a white shirt and her brown hair was matted with blood. When she came to about half an hour after her arrival, Sam helped her sit up. “Are you alright?” Castiel called.

“Are you Sam?” she asked immediately. Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“No, but if you know who we are, then I’m Cas, which isn’t really my name, but it’s what they call me.”

“Dude, it’s a nickname. Castiel doesn’t really flow, but Cas is easy to say,” Sam explained.

“That does not make it my name. That, with you over there, is Sam Winchester. He’s very excited to be here.”

“Stoked.”

“Well, Sam, your, uh, your cousin’s looking for you.”

Both hunters sighed in relief at those words. There was hope, aside from the fact that the woman referred to Dean as Sam’s cousin. Perhaps she was an officer and he gave her a false identity, as Dean Winchester was legally dead.

“Thank God. Where is he?” Sam sat up in interest at the reassurance that his brother was, indeed, coming.

“I… I cuffed him to my car.” An officer.

Sam huffed and Castiel closed his eyes. He’s not sure if he’s relieved that Dean can’t get involved in this or-

“They take the cars, don’t they?” Castiel pointed out.

The officer slumped back against the bars. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Neither Sam or Castiel got the chance to reply because just then the door creaked open. It sounded like one person, so maybe they didn’t have Dean yet.

But then it  _ was  _ Dean, rounding the corner so the prisoners had a clear view of him. “Sam?” Dean rushed to his little brother. “Are you hurt? Where’s Cas?”

“I’m literally right behind you.” Castiel deadpanned. Dean whirled.

“Cas!”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Are either of you hurt?” Dean turned back to his brother. 

“No.”

Dean slammed the top of the cage, making Castiel jump. “ _ Damn,  _ it’s good to see you.”

Kathleen sat up, a bit dazed. Sam held a hand to the small of her back to steady her. “How did you get out of the cuffs?”

“I know a trick or two.” Castiel snorted and Dean stuck his tongue out at him. “All right.” Dean studied the locks and whistled low. “These locks look like they’re gonna be a bitch.”

“They pressed a button on that thing over there,” Castiel supplied helpfully, pointing at the thing in question.

“It’s some kind of automatic control,” Sam added.

Dean headed towards the controls. “Have you seen them?” he called back.

Sam chuckled softly. “Yeah. Dude, they’re just people.”

“And they jumped you? Both of you? Jesus Christ, Kathleen, you're a police officer. You're all getting rusty.” The prisoners hung their heads in shame. “What do they want?”

“I don’t know. Cas thinks they have a sex torture dungeon.”

“It’s a very logical explanation, and I never said they  _ did,  _ I said they  _ might. _ ”

“Anyway, they let Jenkins go, but I think that was some kind of trap. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“It would if you would consider sex trafficking,” Castiel grumbled.

“We’re not even gonna go there, Cas. But you know, with-” Dean continued cautiously, with a glance at Kathleen, “with our usual playmates there’s rules, there’s patterns. But with people… they’re just crazy.”

“I hate cases like these. It makes me question everything about… our line of work.” Castiel admitted.

“Makes you wonder what the line is,” Dean agreed.

“Exactly.”

Sam glanced at the two of them weirdly and continues speaking to his brother. “So, see anything else out there?”

Dean abandoned the box and examined the locks on the cages more. “Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars out back, and Baby, of course. And… uh, Cas, I think your car is absolutely trashed. I would say sorry, but we all already knew it was trash to begin with, so…”

Castiel sighed, laid down on the floor, and screamed into his hands. “I think this qualifies as an ‘awful day,’” he grumbles. Dean laughed. 

“Did you see a black Mustang out there, about 10 years old?” Kathleen’s voice was soft and scared, and Castiel peeked at her and Dean through his fingers.

Dean frowned. “Yeah, actually, I did.” Kathleen nodded, her face falling. “Your brother’s?” The officer’s silence was her answer. “I’m sorry. Let’s get you guys out of here, then we’ll take care of these bastards. You said it needs a key? Key?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“All right, I’d better go find it.”

“By yourself? Dean, as you said, these guys ‘got the drop’ on all three of us.” Castiel exclaimed.

“Yeah, see, but I’m better than you. Plus, I am expecting to be attacked right now, Cas. It’s fine.” Dean turned to leave again. Sam called for him to be careful, and then he was gone.

 

\---*---

 

Dean crept through the house, slowly, trying hard not to make any noise, but with every passing step he took, he became less and less sure that these were people. As Cas had said, it made you question yourself and wonder what makes these people different than a monster. Clearly they had power and clearly they were evil, but what was it that made Dean pause when the thought of killing them arose? Of course, there were no jails for supernatural creatures. People could be stripped of their power and stopped, but they had nowhere to put monsters, no way to contain them. Dean wished sometimes that they didn’t have to kill the creatures they hunted, maybe put them in a prison. It wasn’t like he had any funds for that, though. 

Dean wouldn’t kill these people because their existence, their evil, would be believed. 

Dean encountered the first kidnapper as he was sneaking past what looked like the kitchen. He was wearing a blood stained apron and whistling to old music as he did something probably sick and twisted and cannibalistic. As he crept into the next room he picked up a stick with a nail spike in it. It was probably a murder weapon. He saw a tin full of keys and moved towards it, slowly, because it was dangerously close to the opening to the kitchen. Dean pocketed Cas’ keys first, even though his car was trashed, and then almost grabs his keys, but then, you know, there’s the jar of human teeth, and he has to check  _ that  _ out. As he studied it, he heard a faint creak behind him and whirled around, only to startle a little bedraggled girl. “Shhh,” he whispered, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The little shit grinned and flipped out a knife. “I know.” She threw it perfectly, pinning his coat to the wall. As he struggled to pull it free, she screamed for her father. 

A man grabbed Dean from behind and Dean managed to kick the one running towards him before being thrown into several walls. The fight broke several things, but Dean was doing fairly well for a lone wolf. He was bleeding and his head hurt, but he managed to threaten them before being knocked out and falling to the ground.

 

\---*---

 

He came to and heard them discussing hunting  _ him.  _ No, thank you. Suddenly, Dean saw things in perfect clarity. The cages, the murder, the  _ spoils.  _ This family treated people like human sport, and they  _ liked it.  _ “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. That’s what this is about, you yahoos hunt  _ people? _ ”

The creeps all grinned at him. The old man leaned forward. “You ever killed before?”

Probably more than all of them put together, actually, but Dean wasn’t about to just say that. “What? Well, that depends on what you mean.”

“I’ve hunted all my life,” the old man bragged. Nothing Dean hasn’t heard before, to be honest, he’d met several hunters who were proud of the fact that they were born and raised a hunter. Most of them were annoying as hell, but then there was Cas, so. The old man continued, “Just like my father, and his before him.” Cool. “I’ve hunted deer and bear. I even got a cougar once, huh boys?” One time Dean took out a wendigo in close combat, if he wasn’t able to take out a cougar he’d have to retire. “But the best hunt… is human.” Dean had hunted humans, too, or monsters that seemed human, and it was the worst feeling in the world. But it was the job, he had to do it.

This was just fun and games for these people.

“Oh, there’s nothing like it. Holding your life in your hands, seeing the fear in their eyes before they go dark,” Dean wanted to puke, “makes you feel powerful alive.” Even killing monsters made Dean feel empty inside.

But what could he say to that but, “You're a sick puppy.”

The old man’s grin fell, and he stood, circling around Dean. “We give ‘em a weapon. We give him a fighting chance. It’s kind of like our tradition. Passed down father to son. ‘Course, only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down on us, we never been that sloppy.”

The biggest mess this family had ever made for themselves was taking people Dean loved. “Yeah, well, don’t sell yourself short. You're plenty sloppy.”

The man leaned close into Dean’s face. “So, what, you with that pretty cop? Are you a cop?”

The man’s breath smelled awful. “If I tell you, you promise not to make me into an ashtray?”

They all acted like that was the worst insult possible, and one of the hit men stepped up and smacked Dean across the face. “The only reason I don’t let my boys take you here and now is that there’s something I need to know.”

“Yeah, how about it’s not nice to marry your sister?”

“Tell me,” the old man held a burning fire poker up to Dean’s face, right by his eye, “any of the cops gonna come looking for you?”

“Oh, eat me. No, no, wait, you actually might.” One of the boys clamped his mouth shut and held his face still while the old man waved his poker stick dangerously close to Dean’s eye.

“You think this is funny? You brought this down on  _ my  _ family.”

“No, actually,” Dean grunted, because no. Dean was protecting  _ his  _ little brother, and his- Cas. “you brought it down on mine.”

The old man rolled his eyes. “All right. You want to play games? We’ll play some games. Looks like we’re gonna have a hunt tonight, after all, boys,” the men grinned, and the grandpa turned back to Dean, “and  _ you  _ get to pick the animal. We got three of ‘em in there, the cop, the tall one, and blue eyes. Which one?” 

Dean’s brain shut down. He stopped struggling and he froze. His only rational thought was:  _ How could they see Cas’ eyes in the dark? _ They were ridiculously blue. Dean’s brain slowly came back to life, those eyes still at the front of his thoughts. “Okay, wait, wait, wait. Look, nobody’s coming for me, all right? It’s just us.” The only people that would care to look for him were in cages. His father didn’t know where he was, not that he would come anyway.

Maybe for Sam.

“If you don’t choose, I will,” he pressed the poker into Dean’s shoulder.

“Oh, you son of a bitch!”

Grandpa held the poker almost against Dean’s eyes. If he blinked, his eyelashes would burn off. “Next time, I’ll take an eye.”

Blue eyes. Dean could only make one choice, but he hated himself for it, hated them for making him choose. He couldn’t send Kathleen out, because she couldn’t possibly be as trained as Sam or Cas. And there was no way he could risk Sam like that.

It had to be Cas. He could handle himself. He had to be able to handle himself.

Dean was never going to forgive himself for this.

“Blue eyes. Take him.”

He moved away with the poker, and the other dude let go of Dean’s face. “Lee, go do it. Don’t let him out, though. Shoot him in the cage.”

“What?” Nononononononononononononono. “I thought you said you were gonna hunt him. You were gonna give him a chance.” Sam would never be able to look at him again. Dean would never be able to look at himself again.

The old man called his son back. “Lee! When you're done with the boy, shoot the other two too!”

Dean balked. This was all his fault. He’d led Kathleen here, and if he hadn’t, they wouldn’t be scared of cops and Cas would have a chance. Sam would have a chance. Instead they were all going to die cornered and alone. 

Like animals.

Dean didn’t listen to anything else they could possibly have to say.

 

\---*---

 

After far too much insufferable silence, Kathleen spoke. “He’s dead.”

“Shut up,” Sam and Castiel demanded in unison.

“I’m sorry. But there’s no way.”

Castiel couldn’t bring himself to argue her. 

The door creaked open once more, and all three prisoners straightened in hopes of Dean returning with their escape. But they were disappointed, and one of their kidnappers strolled in, shotgun propped against his shoulder. Castiel had a feeling he knew what was coming when the door to his cage popped open. He still had a good few seconds to escape the cage before he was shot in it. Castiel hopped out, ducking low to trip the kidnapper. He went sprawling, and Castiel took his gun, but then he is sent sprawling and finds himself with the shotgun on his chest.

“Least I got to have some fun with this,” the man sneered, but Castiel wasn’t done yet. He kicked both his legs upwards, one at the gun and the other straight up into his attacker’s crotch. While he was doubled over, Castiel stood and kicked him in the side until his foot was grabbed and twisted, pulling him to the floor. Neither man had the gun, but Castiel’s only concern was getting to the control thing to free Sam and Kathleen. He wrestled with the man until he was in a position to bring his knee down on the man’s face, which allowed Castiel to race to the button and let the others go. Sam picked up the gun, only to find it stuck. He threw it to the ground. The prisoners, now freed, dragged their warden into a cage, locked him in, and blew the fuses, something Dean had taught Sam when they were young. The real challenge now would be finding Dean, alive.

 

\---*---

 

Every gunshot was someone dead because of Dean. He was ready to destroy the little girl, despite his earlier promise to himself. No one hurt Sammy and got away with it. Gramps called to his son, and when there was no answer, hope bloomed in Dean’s chest. Maybe he’d underestimated them. The other man and Gramps left, leaving the little girl with Dean. 

  
  


\---*---

 

They heard the other kidnappers come looking for the brother Castiel had taken out, but they didn’t stop moving. They separated and hid, Kathleen in the loft, Sam behind the hay, and Castiel in the stables, because they had quickly realized their prison had been a barn.

Hell broke loose quickly. Kathleen tried to tackle a man twice her size, and Castiel decided that was where he needed to help. When the man flung the officer off his back, Castiel was there to catch her and then engage in his second fight with these men today, while Sam faced off against the ringleader, or so he seemed.

Unfortunately, Castiel was not superior in this fight, and he was knocked into Kathleen, landing both of them on the ground. Their opponent trained his gun on them and grinned, thinking he had won.

But it was Sam to the rescue, running in calling and attention to himself only to immediately move out of the way so one enemy would take out the other. While the man was facing his fallen comrade, Castiel aimed a successful kick at the back of his kneecaps and he went down. Kathleen stomped on him. They dragged him into the second cage while Kathleen held a gun on the oldest of the three men. Castiel had somehow been cut during his fight, and was trying to stop the bleeding unsuccessfully. Sam decided it needed stitches.

Kathleen offered to watch the man while Sam and Castiel went to find Dean. Sam, of course, wanted Castiel to stay, but Castiel, of course, was having none of it, so he held his arm to his chest and followed Sam out. Once they were away from Kathleen, Sam sighed. “Dude, just take your whole shirt off and use it as a bandage, that thing is like as long as your entire forearm.”

Castiel complied quickly. “I feel very strange without a shirt on.”

Sam laughed. “I don’t think anyone will care, really.” Sam glanced at Castiel’s chest. “Hey, Cas, what’s that necklace?” Castiel had been given his father’s personal effects after his death as well as the house, and among them Castiel had found a ring. Daniel Novak had never taken it off. It now rested on a chain around his son’ neck.

Castiel took it in is hand and studied it fondly. “The ring was my father’s. His mother made it for him. It’s silver, and it has an anti possession symbol engraved in it, as well as our family crest. He wore it every day of my life, but my fingers are much slimmer than his were, so I put it on a necklace.”

Sam nodded. “Dean wears our mom’s ring. He had it resized right before I went to college.”

“I like it around my neck,” Castiel responded simply. 

They stopped at the front door of the house. “You think he’s in there?” Sam asked. They heard vague yelling and screaming from the second floor.

“Yes, I would say so.”

They climbed the stairs in silence, and were shocked to find Dean, tied to a chair and held in line by a girl who couldn’t have been older than 12. Castiel found it hard not to laugh, even when Sam was shoving her in a closet.

Kathleen shot the head of the family, and Castiel couldn’t help but be a little glad. She called in all sorts of backup, and then she did something amazing, considering she knew Dean was a felon.

She let them go.

So the three of them made their way to the Impala, only to find it without any gas, whatsoever. In fact, none of the cars had gas. 

“That’s it!” Dean exclaimed. “We’re pushing it!” And after a ten minute debate on whether or not Castiel should sit in the car and be pushed (which Castiel lost), they headed on their way. Once they were a good distance away, they broke out the first aid kit and Dean started to stitch Castiel up while Sam walked ahead to look for a gas station.

“Listen, Cas… on the way over here, Kathleen told me something.”

 

\---*---

 

It would have been hard to do this even if Cas  _ was _ wearing a shirt, but him  _ not  _ wearing one was kind of very distracting and just did not help. How the hell could he be so tan? And for some reason, the necklace that he wore just made the whole situation three times more uncomfortable for Dean.

There were reasons friends do not develop crushes on friends, and this was one of them. Not that Dean had a crush on Cas. He just had a really nice chest.

“What is it, Dean?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, she told me that New York couldn’t get a hold of you, but that she’s friends with one of the officers there and… they know who killed your dad.”

Cas whipped his head up and those blue eyes were so wide Dean was half afraid they would pop out of his head. “What?”

“A girl named Meg Masters. Either she’s possessed or she works for a demon, but she keeps avoiding them and they caught her on street cameras, firstly, on the night your dad died, but they also caught her walking in the Boston Library when you just so happened to also be there.” Dean said all this very fast.

“I met her,” Cas whispered, clearly horrified.

“You did?”

“Yes. She sat at my table and tried to flirt with me.”

“Is she a crazy ex?”

“I don’t have any ex girlfriends, Dean.” Cas flinched as the needle punctured his skin, but showed no other obvious signs of pain. Of course, he was criss crossed with old scars from old wounds. Dean wondered about them, like where did he get them, how old was he when he’d received them, what had done it.

“Well, it’s still a lead.” Both hunters were silent as Dean continued stitching Cas’ arm. It took 10 stitches, and it was still bleeding slightly, but at least Cas could put his completely blood soaked shirt back on. They sat on the hood of the car, waiting for Sam, and Dean felt that this was the time. He’d decided when he’d discovered this Meg character that it was too dangerous for Cas to continue whatever he was doing by himself. “So, listen Cas. I don’t think you should go home.”

Cas turned and tilted his head to the side. “What?”

“I mean, clearly whoever this is has got it out for you and… I just don’t think it’s safe for you to go it alone anymore.” Cas just looked at him quizzically, and Dean sighed heavily. “I mean, you should stay with me and Sam. I know you're busy with research or whatever, but I think it’d be better for all of us. I mean, there’s strength in numbers, and then you can get your revenge and we can find our dad.” Dean took a deep breath as he finished his speech and waited for Cas to respond. 

“You want me,” he started slowly, “to stay with you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Dean frowned. “I already told you, Cas. I don’t think you're safe by yourself, and I think we accomplish a lot more if we all work together. Plus, in case you don’t remember, your car is trashed.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to take any turns driving,” he warned.

“No, you're not. I barely even let Sam drive, and I taught him how to,” Cas snorted at that and Dean nudged him lightly in the shoulder. “You know this means you give us permission to break into your house and eat your food.”

“I’m not convinced you wouldn’t end up doing that anyway.”

“You’ve probably got me there. Hey, look, Sam’s back… with no gas.” Sam flopped onto the car next to them, exhausted. 

“Well, there’s nothing close that I could find. We’re just gonna have to keep pushing. Cas, you good?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Sam.”

“Hey, Sam, Cas is gonna stick with us from now on,” Dean told him, a grin slowly taking over his face. 

“Really? For how long?” Sam sat up, crossed his legs underneath him. It occurred to Dean just then that he hadn’t run his plan by his brother and that he might not be okay with it, but Sam was grinning as well. Cas was just the kind of person that you couldn’t help but like, even if he was a little weird.

Dean shrugged. “Not really gonna put a time limit on it, Sam, that would be weird.”

“Alright. Welcome aboard, then, Cas. Please don’t kill us in our sleep.”

Cas looked horrified. “Why would I do that?”

“Because Sam’s gassy and will make you eat salad and other weird leaf combinations,” Dean said, struggling not to laugh.

“Yeah, and Dean sings really loud to his really loud music and will eat your food if it  _ isn’t _ weird leaf combinations,” Sam countered.

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m beginning to regret this,” but he was laughing, and Dean felt like he belonged.

 

\---*---

 

The three of them relaxed for a while longer on the hood of the Impala, drinking and eating and waiting for Castiel to stop bleeding. The sky eventually began to lighten and Dean decided it was time to go.

“Alright, boys, let’s hit the road. Get up, slackers.” Sam threw a Goldfish™ at him. They circled around to the back of the Impala and all bent over, hands braced on the trunk. “Start pushing on the count of three… 1… 2… 3! March, team, march!”

With three fairly large men pushing the car, it wasn’t terribly difficult. They were silent as they marched, but Castiel felt some deep connection with this team. He wasn’t their brother, not a Winchester, but he felt like he belonged.

 

\---*---

 

“Cas, I will give you 100 dollars if you eat that,” Dean promised. Both Castiel and Sam gave him reproachful looks.

“Dean, there is absolutely no chance in any version of reality where I will eat that pickle,” Castiel stated.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s just got a little mustard on it. And ranch. And gravy. And… coke.”

“Don’t forget about the cookie dough,” Sam reminded.

They were sitting in a Dairy Queen, and Castiel felt bad for this pickle. Sam had ordered chicken strips, which came with ranch and gravy, and Dean, as a joke, had dipped the pickle in both, but his fingers were covered in mustard. Then, as he held the pickle up to examine it, it had slipped from his fingers into his soda, which did not, unfortunately, wash away the rest of the pickle’s toppings. Then Sam had thrown a cookie dough bit from his Blizzard at Dean, who caught it and smashed it together with the pickle. Then he dropped it back in the ranch and dared Castiel to eat it. An argument ensued.

“Dean, that is so gross. If you want it to be eaten so badly, why don’t you do it?” Sam challenged. Castiel grinned, excited at this turn of events. 

“Um, because I dared Cas first?” Dean pointed out, looking disgusted with the both of them.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Well then, I double dare you. In fact, I triple dare you.”

Dean groaned. “Come on!” But he leaned forward anyway and ate the pickle. Sam and Castiel laughed at his face of disgust. “I hate both of you.”

Sam continued laughing. “Oh, man. I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Shut up, Sammy. Come on, losers, we gotta hightail it to Chicago. Death waits for no man.” Dean stood, threw several bills onto the table and walked out, obviously expecting Sam and Castiel to follow. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother but stood with Castiel to follow him out. 

“Why are we going to Chicago again?” Sam asks once they’re in the car, the Winchesters in the front and Castiel stretched across the backseat. 

Dean sighed. “Two murders, both locked in their apartment with no signs of forced entry, all the doors and windows locked. Plus, both people had alarm systems, and in both places the alarms were still on.”

“Maybe both victims knew their attackers, let them in and then enabled the alarm,” Castiel suggested, “Maybe it’s nothing suspicious.”

“Two people in the same city? I don’t know, Cas,” Dean argued.

“The city is  _ Chicago,”  _ Castiel pointed out. “Do you even look at crime ratings?”

“No, it depresses me.”

“Dean, you kill people for a living.”

“What living?”

Castiel sighed. “I’m just saying, Chicago is not known for peaceful encounters with strangers.”

Sam interrupted them. “Look guys, it might not be our thing, but we should check it out anyway, and besides that, I’ve never been to Chicago and I want some hot dogs.” Dean hummed in agreement.

“You both  _ just ate.” _

“Shhhh.”

 

\---*---

 

At the apartment of the second victim, the Winchesters were talking, probably about important case things, but Castiel wasn’t listening. He was too intently focused on the blood splatters. They looked familiar…

“Hey, Cas,” Dean called, “You hear that? The girl’s heart was missing.”

Castiel snapped himself from his study and turned towards his friends. “Werewolf? She could have let it in, thinking it was friend.”

Dean shrugged. “You just want to be right about that, but the landlady did say it looked like an animal attack. That doesn’t explain the EMF, though.”

“The lunar cycle wasn’t right,” Sam pointed out, “Plus, if it was a creature, it would have left some kind of trace. It was probably a spirit, which  _ would  _ explain the EMF.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and returned to studying the blood patterns. They couldn’t possibly mean anything, but something about them bugged him.

Dean noticed and walked over to him. “Hmm. See if you can find any masking tape around.”

“I can’t place it, but this just… looks familiar,” Castiel admitted to Dean while Sam scoured the apartment.

“Some connect the dots might help.” Sam returned with the masking tape and Dean knelt down and started connecting certain blood stains together. Castiel watched him in awe. He never would have thought of that, for all his books and research. When Dean completed his work, he stood and Castiel began to recognize it as something he had seen fairly recently, in the Boston library, where he had met his father’s murderer.

“Ever seen that symbol before?” Sam questioned.

“Never,” Dean breathed.

“Me, neither.”

Castiel crouched beside it. “I have. It was in a book, surprise, about demons, surprise, and this sigil…” Castiel thought for a moment, “this sigil is for a Zoroastrian shadow demon, typically known as Daevas. They are invisible except for their shadows, and they have incredible strength, enough to tear a human apart in seconds. However, they aren’t really… sentient, I guess. Most demons have a thought process, a cause and some twisted pallet of emotions, mostly consisting of fear, arrogance, and hate. Daevas, in a way, are like animals. They can be bound to do the bidding of someone else through a spell, and they rarely attack on their own,” Castiel tapped the ground twice, “I think we would be very lucky if the Daevas were our biggest problem here.”

Castiel turned and stood to face the other hunters. Sam looked mildly impressed, with one eyebrow raised, but Dean was grinning. “Thank God you're such a nerd.”

“You're sure about this?” Sam asked worriedly. 

Castiel glanced back down at the symbol. “I was reading about these demons when I had my encounter with Meg Masters. I’m certain.”

 

\---*---

 

For some reason completely over Castiel’s head, they went to a bar that night. Dean insisted Castiel come with him to the bar to question the bartenders, only for him to flirt with one of them.

Castiel was very annoyed.

To make matters worse, Castiel was not feeling well. His stomach was in knots and he felt like he was made of ice. Sam returned at some point and Dean left Castiel to go speak with him, but Castiel chose to stay at the bar, resting his head on the cool counter. After a few minutes, Castiel heard someone say his name. He looked up. Dean was waving to him. Sam was standing next to him. And between them, sitting at the table, grinning ferally, was Meg Masters.

Castiel couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure if he should run or if he should just pretend that nothing was bothering him. He decided to go with the latter, as it seemed to be what Sam and Dean were doing. “Hello, Dean.” 

“So, Cas, this is Sam’s… friend, who I think is about to attack me, so would it be okay if I used you as a human shield back to the bar? Thanks.”

“Wait, wait, Cas? As in Castiel? Angel boy!” Castiel wanted to die.

Dean snorted. “Angel boy?”

“Yeah! I’m not surprised your small brain doesn’t know about angels. Castiel is one of them. I mean, obviously not this guy, but hey, names have power,” Meg was still grinning and Castiel began to realize that she had no idea that he knew who she was. 

“Wow, so you know Cas, too?” Sam marvelled. “It really is a small world! Where did you meet him?”

“At the Boston library,” Castiel blurted out quickly. His hand was suddenly met in a death grip by Dean, who was slowly edging Castiel away from Meg. He couldn’t see Dean’s face, but he could only hope he wouldn’t tip Meg off to anything.

“Yup,” Meg announced, bouncing on the balls of her feet, “your boy here was reading about demons, all depressed, and then I came and tried to cheer him up.”

Sam regained control of the conversation, and Meg gave him her number. “Meg, I never did get your last name.”

“Masters.”

“Masters?”

“Yup. Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“I hope to see you around, Sam, angel boy,” she grinned at them and Castiel was about to throw up, but not before breaking every bone in Dean’s hand, he was squeezing so hard. They walked away casually after that, to the table where Sam had left their father’s journal and then out the door. Castiel fell to his knees, gulping in fresh air. Dean knelt beside him.

“Are you okay?” Castiel was not entirely sure which brother had asked,  but he couldn’t answer either way, as all he could do in the moment was hyperventilate.

Sam’s face came into view. “Cas, I swear, if I had thought that this Meg was Meg Masters, I would have told you immediately, I swear.” Castiel nodded to indicate that he knew. His breathing slowed to just regular deep breaths, and Castiel noticed Dean’s arm around his shoulder. He sighed stood shakily, and Dean stood with him and asked again, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Can we get far away from here, please?” Dean took his hand once more and led him to the Impala, allowing him the front seat for once. Sam climbed into the back and Dean drove well past the speed limit to get to their motel room.

“Alright, so, that happened.” Dean announced unnecessarily once Castiel was seated. Both he and Sam glared. 

“Cas, do you think she knows that you know she’s a demon? Or that she killed your father?” Sam asked, sitting in a chair across from him.

“I doubt it, otherwise our encounter would have likely been much more unfriendly.”

“Do you think she’s the one controlling the shadow demons?”

“I believe that is a safe bet, yes.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “How did you meet her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know that too. I mean, what was she saying, that I treat you like luggage? Am I holding you guys against your wills here?”

“No,” Sam and Castiel answered together. Sam continued, “Look, it was when we had that huge fight when I was at that bus stop in Indiana.”

“Well, was there any truth to what she was saying?”

“No, now would you listen? Clearly she’s an issue here, even if she’s not behind the murders, because she’s probably stalking us,” Sam summarized.

“I thought she was only after Cas?”

“Well, the fact that I ran into her too doesn’t really look good for us, Dean. Alright, Cas, you just… you just take a minute, okay? That can’t have been easy for you.”

“I think she did something to me,” Castiel interrupted. “I was feeling sick before I knew she was there, and I didn’t have that type of reaction when I realized I’d met her, and I wasn’t feeling well the first time, either.”

“I mean, probably. What I don’t get is if she keeps running into us, but she’s after us, why doesn’t she just take us? We aren’t exactly prepared for demons at the moment,” Dean pointed out.

“Maybe she’s not a demon at all. Maybe she just works for one, does their bidding,” Sam theorized. “Cas, what do you think?”

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know. I assumed a demon killed my father because they… because of the state the body was in, but I could have jumped to conclusions. Besides, my father would have been able to ward off a demon, he had holy water and salt on him at all times, so I suppose it’s possible.”

“Alright. Well, you guys just lay low here and try to gather what we’ve got on Meg and maybe try and find the connection between her and Cas’ dad,” Sam suggested, shrugging his coat back on.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked worriedly. 

Sam sighed, obviously ready for an argument. “I’m gonna keep an eye on Meg,” Dean opened his mouth, about to yell at his little brother, but Sam continued talking. “No, listen, I know her better than you do, Dean, and we can’t send Cas after her because of whatever the hell she did to him, just- just let me do this, okay?”

Dean sighed. “If you're not back by morning-”

“I know.”

“Call if you run into trouble.”

“I know,” Sam turned to Cas. “We’re gonna get her, alright? We won’t let your dad go unavenged.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

Dean took up Sam’s empty chair after the younger man left. “Alright, well, time to play twenty questions. What did Meg want in Boston?”

Castiel shivered at the memory. “She was flirting with me, I think.”

Dean grinned. “Oh, yeah, I imagine that went down well for her.”

Castiel glared at him. “She asked me if I was into demons, which makes much more sense now, knowing her identity as someone who is very much into demons.”

“Or if she is a demon and if she was flirting with you,” Dean pointed out.

“She also wanted to know where I was from, probably to kill me in my sleep.”

“Definitely.”

“She also asked me about angels. I told her they weren’t real.”

“Alright, angels. Well, you have an angelic name. Maybe she just wanted to find out if you were, actually an angel, you know? Because aren’t angels supposed to smite demons?” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Do I have to tell you they’re not real, too? In what universe could  _ I  _ be an angel?”

“You are pretty goody-two-shoes.”

“I live off of credit card fraud.”

“True. But  _ she  _ doesn’t know that,” Dean drummed his fingers on the table and Castiel sighed, slumping forward in his chair.

“Yes, but other angelic names are Michael, Gabriel, Raphael. Plenty of people have those names, and demons aren’t after every single one of  _ them,”  _ Castiel argued.

“Alright, that’s true, but Castiel is the kind of name that people wouldn’t believe a parent would give someone, you know? Like, that’s obviously an angel name because no normal child gets a name like Castiel. No offense.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “None taken. It just seems like a waste of time, not to mention that killing my father would be pointless, as Meg found me without him, as he would never give up my location, and I was in Boston, where I don’t spend a lot of time.”

Dean spread his hands on the table. “Okay, picture this: you're a demon-”

“I’m not a demon.”

“Hush. I’m trying to create a scenario. Close your eyes,” Castiel does. “So  _ pretend _ you're a demon for a second. And there’s this guy, who kills demons and other nasty things on a regular basis, who might also be an angel who could smite you, and even if he wasn’t he could probably still kill you the normal way. You don’t want to approach this maybe-angel and be like, ‘hey, I need to know if you have crazy smiting powers. It’s for a friend.’ They’d probably smite you. Or kill you the normal way, ‘cuz you're a demon. So you're like, hey, he has a dad-”

“If I was an angel, wouldn’t my father be God?”

“Demons don’t think things like that through. They’re like, he has a guy who raised him, let’s go ask him what’s up. So then you're like, wait, this guy kills demons and nasty shit all the time, too. We should send one of our human minions in there to talk to them, and you pick a pretty one and send ‘em in. So she’s like, ‘hey, tell me about your son,’ and he’s like ‘hell no’ because  _ hell no _ and so she’s like fine, we gotta do this the hard way, and then he won’t say anything, so she kills him, and you're like ‘shit,’ ‘cuz you still can’t just ask maybe-angel guy if he’s an angel, so you're like, alright, let’s make it really obvious that we were behind this, so he’ll go to this library, and we’ll send in our pretty human minion to seduce him into telling her, but it doesn’t work because he’s a gay nerd-”

“You don’t know that I’m gay,” Castiel interrupted, opening his eyes. He noticed that Dean was sitting like he was meditating and held back a snort.

He cracked one eye open. “Are you?”

Castiel blushed. “Yes, but you shouldn’t assume that.”

“Oh, trust me, I didn’t assume,” Dean closed his eyes again and Castiel did the same, though he saved his new questions he had for a later time. “Anyway, the hot chick doesn’t work because he’s a gay nerd, and so you, the demon, are like, ‘okay, so we just gotta see if we can mess with his guts and make him sick, ‘cuz that probably won’t affect angels,’ and then they do that and the maybe-angel guy doesn’t really show any signs of being sick, but he doesn’t look not-sick, either, so who the fuck knows.”

“So you think they’re still after me,” Castiel summarized.

“It’s a safe bet. I mean, they’re demons.”

“But I am  _ not an angel, _ ” Castiel reminded him.

“Yeah, but they don’t know that. It could be something else entirely, too. Like, maybe they’re just targeting hunters. Maybe your dad and my dad fucked them up at some point and now they’re on a revenge spree.”

“What hunts do you know our fathers went on together?” Castiel asked. Dean shrugged. Castiel folded his arms and rested his head atop them, sighing. “Well, I always knew when he had seen John Winchester because he always came home and ranted about him.”

Dean laughed. “Really? What’d he say? When was it?”

“Well, never after I started hunting with him, which was when I was 13, so think before then.”

“On your 13th birthday?”

“Yes. My birthday is March 20th, 1979.”

“Hah, I’m like two months older than you.”

“ _ Hush.  _ The first time he talked about your father was in first grade, which I remember because he picked me up from aftercare, grumbling about how bossy John was.”

Dean snorted. “That sounds about right. Let me see, first grade? What part?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hey, wait a minute, didn’t you say your dad always hunted closeby when you were younger?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if he worked with my dad, we could’ve been going to the same school at some point.”

Castiel squinted. “Now is not the time to be figuring that out, Dean.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Focus.”

 

\---*---

 

They carried on like that for hours, never getting any concrete answers or theories, eventually giving up with trying to connect the dots and turning to collecting information on Meg Masters, which also led nowhere useful. The only interesting things were her recent criminal record and the fact that she had dropped out of college almost a year ago, not long before Castiel’s father had died. 

As the sun was coming up, Dean rocked his chair away from the computer. “None of this makes sense,” he sighed. “Come on, let’s get a couple hours of sleep before Sam gets back.”

Sam did come back, with significantly more information than Dean and Castiel were able to come up with. Once the two of them were up and caffeinated, Sam began to tell his story.

“Alright, so she left her apartment, and headed towards this condemned building. I followed her there.”

“I hope so, since that was your  _ job,”  _ Dean grumbled. Castiel learned quickly that he was not a morning person.

Sam just shot his brother a glare. “I had to climb the fucking elevator shaft to get to the level she was on. She had this altar, and it had the Daeva symbol on it. She walked over to it, and started talking into this goblet that was filled with blood, and she was talking about  _ us,  _ I think _. _ She said that she didn’t know the hunters were in town and that whoever she was talking to shouldn’t come. She sounded afraid, definitely her boss on the phone, because she called him sir, and he’s  _ coming. _ She said she’d be waiting there for him, and then she blew out the candles and left. After she left, I went up there to check everything out. I’m pretty sure she had Meredith’s heart on that altar. It was really freaky. She didn’t do anything weird after that, but she’s definitely the one who summoned the Daeva, and I think that altar controls it.”

“And she’s afraid of us,” Dean finished.

“Looks like it.”

“Well, after Cas went to bed I called my friend from the police department, Amy?” Castiel did not know any Amy. “Yeah, I got the complete records of both victims.”

“I was asleep for three hours! And I thought you were too!” Castiel protested.

“Hey, I couldn’t sleep, and you had like a panic attack earlier, you needed more than three hours. Anyway, we missed something. The first victim, the old man? He spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn’t born here, look where he was born.” Dean shoved the file towards Sam and Castiel who had very different reactions upon reading it. 

Sam straightened immediately. “Lawrence, Kansas.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s where Sam and I were born,” Dean explained quickly. “And Meredith, the second victim? Turns out she was adopted, but guess where she’s from.”

“Lawrence,” Castiel guessed. “But why?”

“Well, I mean, that’s where the demon killed our mom,” Sam started. “That’s where everything started, for us, at least. You think Meg’s tied up with the Demon?”

“Which would mean that the Demon is also tied up with my family,” Castiel pronounced.

“I think it’s a definite possibility,” Dean said cautiously.

“But I don’t understand, what’s the significance of Lawrence? Why not wherever the hell Cas was born?” Sam asked. “And where do these Daeva things fit in?”

“I don’t even know where I was born,” Castiel admitted. “And something tells me that Meg knows more about your family than she does about mine. The Demon has been involved with your family for 22 years, but mine for only one. And again, I was reading about the Daevas when Meg approached me in the library.”

“How do you not know where you were born? Don’t you have a birth certificate?” Dean asked, temporarily abandoning the new information on this case.

“I do, but it says birthplace unknown on it. My mother abandoned me to my father with nothing but a name, and he took me and had me registered as a Novak. There are a lot of ‘unknowns’ on it.”

“Damn, that’s sad,” Castiel glared at him and Dean quickly cleared his throat. “Anyway, I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.”

“What would we do with her? I mean, she killed Cas’ dad,” Sam pointed out. “And if she’s human, we’re not going to kill her, right?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “The police are already looking for her. I’ll call them, saying she attacked me, and they’ll believe it. We won’t kill her if she’s human.”

“Or if she’s a demon,” Dean remarked. “Unless, of course, Cas, you actually are an angel with demon-smiting powers, which would be  _ awesome.” _

“I am sad to say that I’m not.”

“I don’t know, guys. We shouldn’t tip her off. We’ve got to just stake out that warehouse, we’ve gotta see who… or what shows up to meet her.” Sam claimed.

Dean sighed. “I know one thing. We shouldn’t do this alone.”

“Your father?” Castiel guessed. The Winchesters nodded at him.

 

\---*---

 

John Winchester did not show up at the warehouse, which surprised exactly no one. Castiel and the Winchesters stood outside it, shotguns on their shoulders and duffle bags filled with weapons over their arms.

Castiel blew out a breath. “I can’t imagine waiting 22 years for this.”

“No, you can’t,” Dean agreed. Then, as if on some unspoken agreement, they hunters stepped forward, into the building and then up the elevator shaft. It was nearly impossible, but then again, so were most things they managed to do. 

They got to the floor Meg was on, and she was standing in front of her dark altar, chanting. Sam hiked himself up first before silently helping the other two up after him. They hid behind crates, unnoticed, while Meg was still chanting. Castiel felt mostly normal. They readied their guns, but then Meg spoke.

“Guys. Hiding is a little bit childish, don’t you think?”

“That didn’t work out like I planned,” Dean muttered.

“Nothing ever does,” Castiel hissed back.

Meg turned to face them. “Why don’t you come out?” Castiel felt as though he were being admonished for doing something wrong, and he stood with the Winchesters, pointing their guns at the woman in front of them. “Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Dean spoke to draw the attention away from his little brother. “So, where’s your little Daeva friend?”

“Around,” Meg answered vaguely. “And that shotgun’s not gonna do much good.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. The shotgun’s not for them.” Castiel thought they would look awfully foolish if Meg  _ did  _ turn out to be a demon, but she didn’t correct them.

“So, who is it, Meg? Who’s coming?”

Meg ignored Sam in favor of Castiel. “Nothing to say, angel?”

“Not to you.”

“Who are you waiting for?” Sam demanded.

Meg smirked. “You.”

They heard a growling, and they were all knocked down. Castiel tried to get up, but his head was bashed one, two, three times into the ground before he passed out.

Castiel did not wake until later, later than the brothers had, apparently, because they were questioning Meg. Castiel’s head was resting on Dean’s shoulder, and everything was  _ screaming  _ at him. He definitely had a concussion, and while he wanted to listen to the conversation, he was too busy trying to concentrate on what was even in front of him. He felt Meg’s cold presence come and go, he felt Dean’s hand, but the screaming was too much for him. He whimpered in pain, and he heard Meg’s cold, clear laugh. The screaming stopped, but his head still hurt and his vision still swam. He couldn’t hear quite right.

“Sorry, Castiel, just wanted a little fun. How’s your head?” Her fingers grazed his temples, and he flinched.

“Don’t touch him,” Dean growled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare. He’s extra special, this one. Wish I could tell you how, but we’re not quite sure. But see, you can see it in the eyes.” Meg grabbed Castiel’s jaw and forced him to look at her properly. “Something special.” Then she slammed his head back against whatever was behind him and he was out again.

He woke quicker this time, just in time to see Sam flip a table and Meg gasp in fear.  _ The shadows are moving, _ he thought. He watched his father’s murderer be dragged across the floor and tossed out a window. Sam cut he and Dean loose quickly, and Dean helped him limp to the window, and they looked down on the street, where Meg’s body lay broken.

He was glad he hadn’t killed her himself. He didn’t want revenge. He wanted justice. 

If this was justice, then so be it.

Castiel passed out, cracking his head on the window frame. He was going to have one hell of a concussion.

 

\---*---

 

The only thing Castiel was aware of when they finally make it back to the motel room was Dean’s arms. One under his knees and one across his back, his shoulder supporting Castiel’s head. He felt very dizzy, and with every step Dean took, fireworks rocketed off behind his eyelids. He was fairly certain he had an awful concussion. He heard Dean hiss at his brother to get the door and Castiel rejoiced in the knowledge that he would get to  _ sleep…  _

That joy was hindered almost immediately after they stepped in the door. Dean called out angrily and Castiel could hear Sam searching for his gun and then the lights were on and  _ oh God  _ his head, but he didn’t make a sound until Dean nearly drops him, at which he groaned and swatted at Dean’s chest half-heartedly. He felt Dean speak before he heard it. “Dad?”

That got Castiel’s attention. He cracked his eyes open and turned his head towards the rest of the room and got a blurry sight of a man with similar facial features to Dean’s and the same hair and eyes as Sam. John’s smile was sad and proud as he took in his sons. “Hey, boys.”

Dean move first, depositing Castiel on the bed and then- Castiel assumed- hugged his father. Maybe Sam hugged him too but he was not paying attention because he was so tired and maybe the bed wasn’t comfortable or warm and it smelled funny, but it didn’t move and it was soft, which were really Castiel’s only requirements so, despite knowing the dangers of going to sleep just after suffering a concussion, he did just that. 

 

\---*---

 

He was awoken mere minutes later by shouting and screaming and he moaned loudly before, once again, being jostled into Dean’s arms. Dean ducked his head to whisper in Castiel’s ear, “Hey, Cas, I know your head hurts but we’ve gotta get outta here. Shut your eyes, Cas. I promise we’ll be safe in a few minutes.” Castiel whimpered in pain and clenched his fist in Dean’s jacket but did as he was told, shielding his eyes from the blinding light _.  _ Cas nearly cried as Dean ran down the stairs and didn’t stop running until they were at the car. “Cas, you okay?”

Castiel finally opened his eyes in full. The lights of nighttime weren’t too awful and he breathed deeply, clearing his head as best he could. “I can stand, Dean.” Dean was just setting him on his feet when Sam and John appeared, John leaning heavily on his son as Castiel was now leaning on both Dean and the Impala. 

“Come on,” Sam insisted. “We don’t have much time-”

“Wait!” Dean yelled, stopping his brother in his tracks and making Castiel wince. “Sam, wait.” He said, softer, turning to his father. Castiel held onto the sleeve of his jacket to stop himself from falling. “Dad, you can’t come with us.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Sam protested, looking very confused. Castiel was confused too. Hadn’t they done all this to find John? 

John was clearly on Sam’s side, which was disconcerting, considering all the stories he’d heard about their fights. “Boys you're beat to hell. Especially this one.” Castiel assumed John was gesturing at him, but his vision had gone blurry. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Cas… Castiel... Dean, I think I forgot my name.” Sam winced in his periphery.

Castiel could feel Dean’s eye roll and hear it in his tone. “Oh Jesus. Dad, this is Castiel Novak, he’s a hunter.”

John nodded, smiling a little. “I knew your father.”

“He’s dead.” That he knew. He knew that. His father was dead.

“I’m sorry. He was a good man and a damn good hunter.” He sounded sincere, which Castiel appreciated.

“Not the time, guys! Dean, we need to stick together.” Sam turned the conversation back to Dean’s disinvitation towards John. “We’ll go after this demon together-” Castiel winced when Sam said the word ‘demon’, because demons brought death and death brought pain. Like his head.

“Sam!” Dean’s volume once again bothered Castiel. They were going to have an audience soon, if Dean didn’t be quiet. “Listen to me. We almost got Dad killed in there. Don’t you understand, they’re not gonna stop! They’re gonna try again, they’re gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right.” A horrifying thought. “Dad’s vulnerable when he’s with us. He’s stronger without us around.”

Sam pleaded with his father, but John, like Castiel, saw the truth in Dean’s statement. “Sammy, this fight is just starting, and we are all going to have a part to play in it.” Even Castiel, though the words weren’t directed at him. Though he was fairly certain that the demon that killed Mary Winchester was not the same that had killed his father, something big was stirring. They were all part of it, not just because of those they had lost but also because now they were clear threats, targets to whoever Meg had worked for. “For now, you’ve got to trust me, son.” That seemed like a strange sentence, given that it was Dean’s realization and Dean’s realization that needed to be trusted, but still Castiel could say nothing. He felt like a hive of bees was sitting on his tongue. More words were exchanged, but Cas wasn’t paying attention until John yelled at them from a little ways away. “Y’all take care of each other, y’hear? Especially you, Novak.” Castiel wasn’t sure if that meant that he ought to be taking especial care of the Winchesters or if the Winchesters should be taking especial care of him. Probably the former, though he couldn’t do much in his current mind-mush state. 

Dean took a shuddering breath and turned to Castiel, guiding him gently into the backseat of the car before sliding in next to him. Castiel whimpered every time the car bounced, and Dean held him tighter each time, whispering, “It’s okay, Cas, almost there, you're gonna be okay…”

 

\---*---

 

At some point, Castiel made it to a hospital. Dean was there, sometimes, and Sam was there, sometimes, but he wasn’t really aware of much until two weeks after the encounter with Meg. Within another, he was as good as new.  

Except.

Dean burst into laughter. “You have to wear  _ glasses? _ ”

Castiel frowned. “Only for reading.”

“Amazing.”

“Assbutt,” Castiel grumbled. Dean stopped laughing.

“What did you just call me?” There was genuine confusion on his face.

“ _ Assbutt,  _ assbutt.”

Dean erupted into fresh laughter.

Castiel rolled his eyes and got in the car. “Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, Cas. All better now? Ready to hit the road?”

“He’s almost all better, Sam. He has to get glasses and  _ clearly _ has brain damage, as he thinks ‘assbutt’ is a real insult,” Dean explained as he got into the driver’s seat.

“I do not have brain damage.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, you're all better. Do you want to go home for a few days?”

Castiel nodded. “I haven’t been back in almost a month.”

“Here’s hoping the bee is still hanging.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

Castiel’s home was much the same as when he had left it. Sam offered to run his eye prescription to the ophthalmologist’s office while Dean and Castiel cleaned, with the promise not to pick out ridiculous frames for him. Castiel trusted him much more than he did Dean.

“What did you and Sam do while I was recovering?” Castiel asked as Dean swept the kitchen floor.

“We went on a couple hunts. We met wanna-be Ghostbusters, which is another movie I have to show you, in Texas. There was a tulpa, you ever hunt one of those?”

“No, but I know about them.”

“Sons of  _ bitches,  _ I swear to God. We had to burn an entire house down to get rid of it. Then we went to Wisconsin, Dad’s orders, and killed a shtriga that was getting all the kids sick. And we just got back from New York where there was a possessed painting- get this, it was possessed by the spirit of the dad  _ and  _ his adopted daughter, who killed everyone in the family, including herself, and then he got blamed. Then she started icing everyone who bought the painting.” Dean finished sweeping as he finished his story.

“That’s… disturbing.”

“That’s the life, man. So, what did you get up to while you were going blind in the hospital?” Dean asked as he leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest.

Castiel chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much.”

“Yeah, the doctors said you wouldn’t. They also said to make sure you drink lots of fluids, and we have to supervise your sleep for another two weeks.”

“That sounds fairly creepy,” said Castiel, smiling. 

“Yup. You better watch your back, Cas. So, listen, I know you're out of the hospital-”

Castiel interrupted him. “You don’t think I should start hunting again.”

“Just for like, another week, okay? I don’t want to make any of this worse, and besides, I don’t think you really want us supervising your sleep,” Dean reasoned.

Castiel nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Dean sighed. “But if you're not, you’ll call, right?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. Sam and I’ll leave tomorrow morning, there’s a thing nearby that we’re gonna check out.”

Castiel nodded. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“What did Meg say, in the warehouse, while I was knocked out?” It had been bothering Castiel that they did not mention it yet.

Dean rubbed at his eyes. “Lots of things. She knew Sam was watching her, set the whole thing up as a trap. I asked her why she went after your dad, she didn’t answer me. She said you were special for some reason. I don’t think she knew why, just that there was something. Oh, and, trapping us was just a trap for Dad. She said that she was collecting, and once Dad showed up she was gonna kill all of us. Maybe not you. She said she was doing this, killing people, out of loyalty, to the Demon, I guess. That was it, I think.”

Castiel sighed. “That still doesn’t explain why the Demon wants us dead. Or you, apparently.”

“Mmm. You're sure you're not an angel?”

“Positive.”

But he was something.

 

\---*---

 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas! So, we’re in Manning, Colorado, and I know it’s late, but we finally got back to where we’re staying, and guess who showed up?”

“Who?”

“Dad! Yup, he and Sam are arguing, already, about something dumb.”

Castiel sensed the sadness in Dean’s voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just- it’s always like this. I just wish they would get along.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t have much experience with feuding. I never had any siblings, and my father never did anything I could question.”

“Oh, trust me, he’s done some questionable things, but it was always Sam who said something, not me. Your dad must have done something wrong at some point, right?”

“If he did, he listened to me when I suggested he rectify it.”

“That right there is the big difference between our fathers.”

“I suppose so. Have you figured out what it is you're hunting?”

“Oh my God, Cas, you're never gonna believe this, but it’s  _ vampires. _ ”

“I thought they were extinct?”

“So did we, but apparently not. And to kill ‘em, you chop their heads off.”

“Gross. I’m glad I’m not there.”

“I bet you are. Anyway, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I’m actually wearing my glasses right now. I’m glad I trusted Sam with choosing them.”

“That’s never not gonna be funny. Anyway, I gotta go. You keep reading and drawing your bees, nerd.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye, Cas.”

When Dean hung up the phone, his father was standing in front of him, arms crossed. “You seem awfully cosy with this Castiel.”

“Oh, lay off, Dad.” Sam interjected from across the room. John ignored him.

“Yeah. He’s a nice person Dad, and a really good hunter.”

“You sound like you're talking about your boyfriend, son.”

Sam snorted and Dean glared at him. “Just the facts, Dad.”

“He seems like a liability, Dean. Didn’t you say he and Sam were kidnapped? And then the nasty concussion at the warehouse. You sure he can handle himself?” John challenged.

“Yeah, but Sam was kidnapped too, so-”

“He also handed those freaks their  _ asses,  _ and we all got beat by the Daevas. He can handle himself as well as we can, okay? He’s not a liability, he’s our friend. Every time he got kidnapped, we did too, so just drop it. We’re all alive, and we always beat the thing,” Sam defended. Dean normally would have just left it there, but Cas was his friend, too, and he would feel wrong if he didn’t defend him as well. Before he could, though, his father spoke.

“I just don’t see why you carry him around. This thing, with this Demon… it’s not his fight.”

Dean stood. “Why the hell not? You think we’re the only ones the Demon’s ever hurt? Meg killed Cas’ dad on its orders, and then she went after  _ him  _ on its orders. Besides that, we need all the help we can get, and this is what hunters  _ do. _ ”

John narrowed his eyes, and for a second, Dean was afraid he was going to get smacked. But then he just walked away, shaking his head, and Dean sat back down on the bed, ignoring Sam’s shocked look. 

“Wow, Dean. I mean-”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

 

\---*---

 

Castiel was napping when the Winchesters returned. They let themselves in, of course, and Castiel was awoken by Dean poking at his face. “Wakey, wakey, Cas.”

Castiel slapped his hand. “What do you  _ want?” _

“Wow. Okay, rude. Be nice, you have guests.”

“Not until I have coffee, I don’t,” Castiel clarified threateningly. 

“I knew you were going to say that. Sam is making it right now, but you have to get up.” Castiel groaned. “Nope, come on.” Dean gripped Castiel’s upper arm and dragged him out of bed and onto his feet. Castiel pouted at him, which made Dean smile. Dean led him into the living room, where John Winchester was sitting on his couch. “Dad, this is Cas, sans concussion, although he just woke up, so he might act the same.”

“Ha-ha,” Castiel flopped onto the couch next to the Winchester patriarch, glaring at Dean as he did so. “Where’s my coffee?”

Dean ignored him. “Are these your glasses? Oh, man,” he placed them on Castiel’s nose and laughed. “It really completes the nerd look.”

Castiel frowned at him. “What nerd look?”

“Cas. Dude. You're wearing bee pajamas  _ again.  _ A different pair, which means you have at least three. _ ” _

“Irrelevant.” Castiel perked up at just the sight of Sam with coffee and quickly drained his mug. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s go time, man. We’re taking the fight to the Demon, together. We thought we’d all set up shop here, because you’ve got all these books and shit, and beds,” Dean explained.

“I only have the couch and my room.”

“I know about the bunkbeds, Cas. I also saw the teddy bear wallpaper,” Castiel blushed. He had last decorated his childhood bedroom when he was eight, and he had been in love with a teddy bear his aunt had given him. She had died later that year, and Castiel became very attached to the teddy bear in her place. He specifically remembered Aunt Claire’s terror of a son, Matthew, staying with them for several weeks until he was taken in by his father, a hunter on good terms with Castiel’s aunt.

“No comment. I suppose that would work,” Castiel turned to John. “I assume you also have a large amount of information we need?” John nodded. 

“Well then, let’s get to work,” Sam suggested, clapping his hands together. They moved to Castiel’s office to get everything done. The walls were covered in corkboard, so John was able to pin everything he had up. Sam was tapping away at the computer, and Dean and Castiel were sorting through books for anything of relevance.

There was an old gun laying on the desk next to Sam, which Castiel noticed when he was putting a book down for Sam to use. “What’s this?”

“Oh, did Dean not tell you about this? Have you ever heard of Samuel Colt?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “I’m offended that you would think otherwise.”

“Yeah, well, did you ever hear of his demon-killing gun?”

“This is it? This is the gun that can kill anything?”

“Yup. We tested it out on one of the vampires, and it worked. This is how we’re going to kill the Demon,” Sam did not look happy about it.

“That doesn’t please you?”

“Of course it does, it’s just… once this is all over, I’m going back to law school, and Dean… he never stands up to our dad, he’s just gonna be tossed around until something happens to Dad, and then he’s going to be all alone,” Sam spoke quietly so his family members wouldn’t hear.

“Of course he won’t, Sam. Dean and your father were hunting separately before you left school, and I will be with him. I have no intentions of going back to New York,” Castiel promised.

“Yeah… thanks, Cas. That actually does make me feel better.”

John called the three of them to attention. “So, this is it. This is everything I know. Boys, our whole lives we’ve been searching for this Demon. Cas, it killed your father. There wasn’t a trace, nothing, until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail.”

“That’s when you took off,” Dean clarified.

“That’s when my father died,” Castiel said quietly. It was hard to believe that it had been a year. In some ways, it felt like a lifetime, but sometimes Castiel would walk into his kitchen, expecting his father to be there with coffee and an order of eggs.

“Yeah. The Demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation.”

Dean sighed. “Alright, so what’s this trail you found?”

“It starts in Arizona. Then New Jersey, New York, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It’s going after families, just like ours.”

“Families with infants?” Sam asked.

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t understand. My father was tortured to death, and his only family was me, and I was in the city. It doesn’t fit with everything else.”

John shrugged. “He probably had some different motive for going after you and your old man, which is why he sent the girl after you, because it was something else about you that made you worth killing. But yeah, Sam, on the night of the kid’s 6-month birthday.” Castiel was still trying to wrap his head around what could possibly be so different about him and his father.

“I was six months old that night?”

“Exactly six months.”

Sam folded his arms. “So, basically this Demon is going after these kids and Cas for whatever reason, same way it came for me?”

“If the Demon came for me, why aren’t I dead? It must have had plenty of different opportunities. Why kill my father and not me?”

“Meg said she wouldn’t hurt you,” Dean interjected. “She said you were too special.”

“Wait, so, since the Demon came for me, Mom and Jessica being dead- it’s ‘cause of me?” Sam mourned.

“My father is dead because I’m ‘special’?”

“We don’t know that guys, calm down,” Dean stated.

Sam and Castiel both started rambling at him and Dean held his hands up. “Sam, for the last time, this is not your fault, and Cas, for the  _ first  _ time, this is not your fault. It’s the fault of the damn Demon, okay?”

All three of them began arguing with each other, until finally John stood up. “Okay, enough,” he didn’t yell, but they all fell quiet.

Sam sighed. “So why is it doing it? The families, I mean, we don’t have time to figure out why Cas’ special, what does it want with the babies?”

“I wish I had more answers, I do. I’ve always been one step behind it. Look, I’ve never gotten there in time to save…” John fell quiet.

“Alright, then, Cas. If Meg didn’t want to kill you, it means the Demon wants you alive, which means that it probably wants you for something.”

“Still not an angel, Dean. I can’t think of anything special about me that would be of interest to any demon,” Castiel assured him for what felt like the millionth time.

Dean sighed. “Alright, how do we find it before it hits again?”

John turned to him. “There are signs. Look, it took me a while to see the pattern, but in the days before these fires, signs crop up in an area- cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms,” he paused for a moment, looking to the ground. “And then I went back and checked, and…”

“These things happened in Lawrence,” Dean finished.

“The week before your mother died,” John confirmed. He looked to Sam. “And in Palo Alto… before Jessica. And even if the Demon didn’t kill your father, Cas, he was there, because these things happened in Scarsdale, too. And these signs, they’re starting again.”

Sam nodded. “Where?”

“Salvation, Iowa.”

 

\---*---

 

They didn’t speak on the way to Iowa. Dean played his music louder than usual, and for once, Sam didn’t complain. They followed John in his giant truck, and when they were almost there, he pulled over. They all emptied their cars.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Son of a bitch!” John explained, slapping his car.

“What is it?” The three younger men asked in unison.

John put his hands in his pockets. “I just got a call from Caleb.” Castiel had met Caleb once, briefly, when he was 16 and there was a ghost feud going on in a Seattle hospital.

“Is he okay?” Dean and Castiel asked together.

“He’s fine. Jim Murphy’s dead.” Castiel clenched his hands into fists. Pastor Jim had not lived nearby, but he used to bring Castiel food and the occasional book as a child when his father would be gone longer than expected.

“Pastor Jim?” Sam asked. John nodded. “How?”

“Throat was slashed. He bled out.” Both Sam and Dean seemed to be sharing in Castiel’s anger and sense of loss. “Caleb said they found traces of sulphur at Jim’s place.”

“A demon,” Dean said resentfully. “The Demon?”

“I don’t know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the Demon knows we’re getting close.”

“Now what do we do?” Dean beseeched.

“Now we act like every second counts. There’s two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, we cover more ground. I want records, I want a list of every infant that’s gonna be six months old in the next week,” John demanded.

“Dad, that could be dozens of kids. How the hell are we gonna know which one’s the right one?” Sam protested.

“We’ll check ‘em all, that’s how.” Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Anyone got any better ideas?” 

Sam looked afraid, and if he was being honest, Castiel was, too. “No, sir.”

Dean turned back to the car, but then he turned back to his father, who was still. “Dad?”

“Yeah,” John turned back to them. “It’s Jim. You know, I can’t…” John was silent, staring out over the distance for a moment before turning back to his sons and Castiel. “This ends now. I’m ending it. I don’t care what it takes.”

Then he turned away and they got back in their cars, and Castiel rested his head on the window. “Pastor Jim gave me my first copy of my favorite book,” he admitted. “He also taught me how to make green-bean casserole.”

Dean nodded. “He used to watch us sometimes, was our emergency contact.”

“I haven’t spoken to him in years,” Castiel admitted.

“Us either.”

Castiel sighed. “I don’t remember saying thank you enough.”

Dean didn’t respond.

 

\---*---

 

Once they were in Salvation, they split up. John went to one hospital, Dean and Castiel to the other, and Sam to the health center. Once they arrived, Dean started to flirt with the receptionist until Castiel glared at him and they got back on task, although she did interrupt them several times. Castiel ignored her. Nothing particularly interesting happened until they returned to their motel room, where John was sitting on the bed and Sam was pacing. “What the hell took you guys so long? You each had to do half the work!”

“Jeez, Sam, maybe we went to a more popular hospital,” Dean defended.

“Or  _ maybe,  _ your brother was more focused on the receptionist than doing his work,” Castiel grumbled.

“Okay, in my defense-”

“Would you guys just shut up?” Sam shouted. “Sit down, I have something to tell you.” Dean and Castiel glared at each other and sat on the bed next to John, who just shook his head at them. “Okay, so I was leaving the medical center, and I had one of my… visions. In the vision, there was a woman with a baby, and I heard a train whistle, so I went to the street that’s near the train tracks, and I met a woman with a six month old baby, Rose.”

“A vision?” Castiel and John asked in unison. Dean looked unsurprised.

“Yes. I saw the Demon burning a woman on the ceiling.”

“And you think it’s going to happen to this woman you met because?” John asked skeptically. 

“Because these things happen exactly the way I see them,” Sam insisted.

Dean stood. “It started out as nightmares, and then he started having them while he was awake.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “It’s like- I don’t know. It’s like the closer I get to anything involving the Demon, the stronger the visions get.”

“Alright, when were you going to tell me about this?” John turned to Castiel, who subconsciously leaned away. “Did you know?”

“I had no idea,” Castiel admitted. He met Dean’s eyes briefly, but the other man couldn’t hold his gaze. He turned to his father instead.

“We didn’t know what it meant.”

“Alright, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone, and you call me,” John demanded angrily.

They all stared at him, even Castiel, who had  _ not _ been slighted by John’s absence. “Call you?” Dean clarified. “Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence, alright? Sam called you when I was dying. Getting you on the phone, I got a better chance of winning the lottery.”

Castiel looked away. He felt awkward being there, but was glad Dean was standing up to his father. Maybe Sam had less to fear from going back to law school than he thought. 

“You're right,” John admitted. “Though I’m not real crazy about this new tone of yours.” Castiel bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Look, guys, visions or no visions, the fact is, we know the Demon’s coming tonight. And this family’s gonna go through the same hell we went through.”

“Not if we have anything to say about it,” Castiel contradicted. John nodded.

“No one is, ever again.”

Just then, Sam’s phone began to ring. “Hello?” Sam frowned. “Who is this?” Castiel couldn’t hear what the other end of the phone was saying, but Sam straightened. “Meg.” 

Castiel stood. Dean crossed the room to him and gripped his bicep. Castiel hadn’t exactly thought about it, but he was about to rip the phone from and Sam and ask Meg a lot of questions. “Demon,” he hissed. How could they have been so naive?

“Last time I saw you, you fell out a window,” Sam continued. Castiel wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he was thinking about every sign, every clue they missed. Could Meg be  _ the  _ Demon, the true boss of the operation? Castiel doubted it. That seemed too easy.

John stepped forward to take the phone, and Dean relaxed his grip on Castiel slightly. Sam claimed he didn’t know where his father was, but clearly Meg wasn’t buying it because he gave up the phone. Castiel ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Caleb?” John exclaimed after exchanging very few words with Meg. His voice turned dark, and Dean’s hand slipped away from Castiel entirely. “You listen to me. He’s got nothing to do with anything, you let him go.” Castiel bit back a sarcastic comment about how well that demand would work. He collapsed back onto the bed. He heard John threaten to kill Meg, and decided not to argue, though if Meg was to die, it would be by his hand this time. It was different when he thought she was a human, but demons never stopped. “I’ll give you the Colt,” John consented, and Castiel sat up. 

He hung up. “Meg’s a demon,” Castiel immediately announced. John nodded in agreement.

“Or she’s possessed.”

“What’s the difference?” Castiel mumbled, making his way to the coffee machine.

“It doesn’t matter. She wants me to go to Lincoln to give her the Colt, or she’ll kill everyone, you guys, basically everyone I’ve ever come into contact with. I’m going.”

“What?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice. If I don’t go, a lot of people die, our friends die,” John reasoned.

Sam disagreed. “Dad, the Demon is coming tonight for Monica and her family, that gun is all we got, you can’t just hand it over.”

“Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a couple of vampires, no one’s really seen the gun, no one knows what it looks like,” John explained.

Dean seemed skeptical. “So what, you're just gonna pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?”

“Antique store.” Castiel folded his arms and stared at the ground, trying to think. Obviously, Meg would realize that the gun was a fake, and she would not be happy with John. He couldn’t go alone. He thought over what Dean had told him, and began to form a plan. 

Dean was thinking along the same lines. “You're gonna hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn’t notice?”

“Look, as long as it’s close, she shouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Yeah, but for how long, what happens when she figures it out?” Dean challenged.

“I just- I just need to buy a few hours, that’s all.”

Sam realized what he was saying. “You mean for us. Me and Dean and Cas. You want us to stay here and kill this Demon by ourselves.”

Castiel opened his mouth to tell them no, he was going to confront Meg, because apparently she wouldn’t kill him, but John beat him. “No, Sam, I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want- I want Dean to have a home, I want hunters to be able to do their jobs without these giant  _ boss fights. _ I want Mary alive,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want this to be over.”

They all fell silent. Again, Castiel felt this was not a speech meant for him, but he took it to heart anyway. “Fine. But I’m going to Lincoln, too.”

John shook his head. “No, Meg’ll kill you on the spot.”

“No, she won’t, she wants Cas alive,” Sam realized.

“Yeah, she wants him, which means she’ll probably  _ kidnap him _ on the spot, Sam. Cas, you're not going,” Dean ordered.

Castiel had a silent staring match with him. “You can’t stop me, none of you. I’m going. She won’t hurt me.”

“Cas, you’ll be taken, they’ll use you for something awful-”

“Dean, I’ll be  _ alive- _ ”

“Yeah, but do you really think they want you for anything good? They’ll probably stick a demon in you-”

“No they won’t, I’ll be fine-”

“Yeah, because taken and probably tortured by demons is what I call  _ fine-” _

“Guys!” Sam interrupted. “I swear to God, you fight like an old married couple.” They glared at him.

John finally spoke up. “Look, Cas, you're right, I can’t stop you from coming, but we need to make a plan.”

Castiel nodded. “What do we have to do?”

 

\---*---

 

The drive to Lincoln was awkward, simply because neither hunter knew what to say to the other. They got about halfway there before John cleared his throat and said something. “You know the first time I met your dad, we weren’t even hunting?”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “You weren’t?”

“Nah, there’s this bar, called the Roadhouse, it’s a hunter’s bar-”

“I know it.”

“Yeah? Anyway, we were both sitting there, and he and he and Ellen were talking about kids. She had a little baby girl, Jo, and he had you. Not many people in the life have kids, and I was pretty new at it, so I asked them how the hell they managed to balance being a parent and being a hunter, and your dad looked at me and said, ‘if you’ve got a good kid, you don’t have to.’ He told me all about how even though you were only six, you took care of yourself better than some twenty-year-olds. Of course, Dean was the same age at the time, and he was an absolute nightmare, although he did take care of Sammy. And when I told Daniel that, he said that the reason you were so well behaved was because you knew how important his job was and how important it was for him not to have to worry about you. When I got home to my boys, and the place was a mess, I sat Dean down and told him everything, and he never made a mess like that again. I never got a call from him unless it was a real emergency, like when Sam broke his arm, idiots jumped off a shed. I called them, when I had the chance, of course, but it was exactly like your old man said.”

Castiel smirked. “In his defense, I was an exceptional child even without knowing the family business.”

John laughed. “How far back was your family hunting again?”

“I don’t know. A long time, I suppose.”

“And, forgive me for asking, but Daniel never did say anything about your mother.” It wasn’t a question, but the need for an answer was implied.

Castiel sighed. “She’s no one. I don’t think even my father knew her name.”

“Ah. One of those. How did he end up with you, then?”

“She tracked him down. I don’t know why she went through the effort, but I’m glad,” Castiel never asked, actually.

John was quiet for a moment, as he clearly had something on his mind. Castiel didn’t care. He really ought be thinking more about the coming encounter, but John interrupted him. “He told me you went to college in New York. What’d you major in?”

“I double majored in psychology and forensics. Sam tells me he majored in pre-law?”

John chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t know. Did you get a nice job, in psychology?”

“Um. I was a florist.”

John snorted. “Big step down from hunting.”

“Yes. But here I am.”

“How’d you get back in?”

Castiel looked out the window. “I would’ve thought that was obvious.”

John sighs. “Every hunter needs their revenge.”

 

\---*---

 

They arrived at the warehouse a little before midnight. They silently made their way to the water main through the piping system, and John blessed the water into holy water. Castiel jumped off the roof rather skillfully while John climbed down slowly. “You know, there was a time when I would’ve been able to do that too.”

“I’m sure. Let’s go.”

They stepped into the warehouse together, despite Dean’s insistence that Castiel remain hidden unless he was needed. Meg was there, and she grinned at them. “John, you made it. And you brought a friend. I would be mad, but it’s so nice of you to just deliver him up to me like this along with the Colt. I’ve gotta say, this is a real treat.”

“Castiel isn’t part of the deal,”

“Sure,” Meg tilted her head. “I can see where your boys get their good looks. And, of course, Castiel, I’ve already seen where you get yours.” Castiel didn’t respond. “You really do look an awful lot like Daddy.” Still, neither hunter spoke. “Well, aren’t you two chatty? You want to get to business? Fine. Why don’t you hand over the gun?”

“If I give you the gun, how do we get out of here?” John asked.

Meg grinned. “Well, since you’ve been so kind as to bring Castiel along,  _ he’s  _ how you get out. Give us the gun and the angel and you can just skip on home to your boys.”

“I’m not an angel,” Castiel clarified. Meg just winked.

“You're not getting Cas,” John objected firmly.

“Fine. Then if you're as good as you say you are, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Maybe I’ll just shoot you.” John threatened.

“You want to shoot me, baby? Go ahead. It won’t end anything. There’s more where I came from.” Another demon stepped out from the shadows behind Meg. Castiel cursed under his breath.

“Who the hell is that?”

“He’s not nearly as much fun as I am,” Meg assured them. “This guy, Castiel, he would have just stabbed your father, but I made sure he knew  _ why  _ he was killed. Wrote it in big letters across his chest,” Castiel didn’t even move, but his head started to hurt. “Hmm. I suggest you give us the gun.”

John looked between the demons, and then at Castiel, who nodded. John reached into his pocket and pulled out the fake gun, handing it over to Meg. She held it up, inspecting it. “This is the Colt?” John nodded. She handed it to her friend. “What do you think?” 

He held it up and pulled back the hammer. John moved away slightly, but the demon turned and shot Meg instead, who screamed in outrage. 

“You shot me! I can’t believe you just shot me!”

“It’s a fake!” The other demon proclaimed, tossing it to the side. Castiel walked backwards slowly.

“You're dead, John. Your boys are dead, and Castiel, you're going to wish you were dead,” Meg threatened.

“I never used the gun,” John tried to excuse. “How could I know it wouldn’t work?”

“I’m so not in the mood for this, I’ve just been shot!” Castiel rolled his eyes. Like that was the worst thing in the world. Especially for a demon.

“Well then, I guess you're lucky the gun wasn’t real.” John also started backing away.

Meg laughed a little. “That’s funny, John. We’re gonna strip the skin from your bones, but that was funny.”

The demons turned at a sound, and that’s when the hunters turned and ran, locking the door behind them and down a trapdoor. They entered the hallway of pipes, and as the demons got close, John turned on the water, emitting a spray of holy water at the demons. Their shoes started to burn when they stepped in it, and since the water was only a temporary solution, they kept running.

They made it to the truck, only to discover that the tires were slashed. It was then that Castiel decided they were, as Dean would say, screwed. They ran another way, but without much hope. Just as John pulled out his phone to call his sons, they were thrown against a wall by some unseen force. Castiel tried to breakaway, but found it impossible. The other demon approached them, with a smirk on his face. They were dragged farther up the wall the closer he came. Meg was behind him. “Good work, Tom.” She walked in front of Castiel, tapping his shoes. “Don’t worry, Castiel. We’re gonna have lots of fun together, I promise.”

Castiel kicked her in the face. The rest of his body was still trapped, but he’d somehow been able to do that. He’d hardly even thought about it. Meg doubled over, but when she straightened, she was laughing. “I knew you could do it, Castiel.” And then the world went dark.

\---*---

 

When Castiel woke, he was tied to a bed. John was lying on the bed next to him, also tied down. He tried to sit up, but to no avail. He didn’t know where he was, but clearly the demons had him. 

A woman came in, not Meg. She had black eyes. “Whoops, you're not supposed to be up yet.” And then he was gone again.

 

\---*---

 

The second time he woke, it was to a much more familiar and friendlier face. “Cas. Cas, Cas, wake up!”

“Sam…” he grumbled. 

“Yeah, it’s me, come on, we gotta go. I don’t have any coffee for you, I’m sorry.”

Castiel groaned. Sam untied the ropes and helped Castiel up, slinging one arm around his shoulder. “Why is my face wet?”

“Ah. Sorry about that. Had to make sure you weren’t possessed.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

Dean was there, too, helping John stand. Castiel smiled weakly. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.”

“Let’s go, guys,” Sam said urgently. They filed out the door, just in time to see two people, who Castiel guessed we demons, come marching in. “Go, go, go, go!” Sam chanted. The turning made Castiel dizzy.

They slammed the door shut, but then an axe came through it, right by Sam’s head. Sam instructed Castiel to lean against the door, which he did, while Sam salted it. Dean was helping John onto the fire escape. Once he did that, Dean came back in and helped Castiel out. They all went down, and once they hit the ground, Sam and Dean still had to help John and Castiel walk. Castiel was pretty sure they had been drugged. Sam and Castiel were faster, and they got tackled to the ground for it. Castiel rolled away from Sam, but when he sat up he saw the demon Tom, as Meg had called him, beating Sam up. Dean came and kicked him in the face, but it did no good. Dean was tossed against a car, and Castiel struggled to even sit up. Suddenly, though, a gunshot rang out, and Tom fell to the ground, right next to Castiel. He was dead.

Castiel looked up, and there was Dean, still sitting on the windshield of the car, aiming the Colt at Tom. Dean helped both Sam and Castiel up, and then he was helping all three of his companions stand. He loaded them all into the Impala, and Castiel began to feel better on the way back. No one said a word, but they did stop for coffee on the way to wherever the brothers had set up shop, which was an abandoned cabin in the woods. Sam salted all the doors and windows while Castiel sat in the corner, willing his headache away, sort of sleeping. The brothers were talking, but Castiel wasn’t listening. He had a lot of questions, but those could wait.

Castiel only started paying attention when the lights started flickering. He stood shakily. “Fuck.”

“It found us, it’s here,” John stated.

“The Demon?” Sam’s voice shook.

John started barking out orders, but Castiel’s head started to hurt worse. He pressed his palms into his temples, groaning.

Dean was at his side, gun in hand, and the headache subsided, for a moment. He was arguing with his father and brother. “Cas, I really hope you're not possessed.”

“What? What are you-” then Castiel noticed that the gun in Dean’s hand was the Colt, and it was pointed at his father. John wasn’t even looking at him, but he seemed fine. Much more fine than Castiel. “John, why don’t you have a headache?”

“What?” Sam and John both asked.

“We were taken together, given the same drugs, why doesn’t my head hurt and yours doesn’t?”

John rolled his eyes. “This is ridiculous, we don’t have time for this. Sam, if you want to kill this Demon, you have to trust me,” Sam said nothing. “Sam?” Sam looked to Dean, holding the gun, to Castiel, holding his head, and he told his father, “No.”

Sam moved behind Castiel, whose headache was becoming worse and worse with every second until he fell to his knees. He couldn’t hear anything but screaming, but he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

His headache went away completely when he was slammed against the wall. He opened his eyes, and John was grinning at the three of them, all pinned down. “Sorry about the headache, Castiel, I wouldn’t want you to accidentally do anything drastic.”

Castiel ground his teeth together. “I  _ can’t  _ do anything drastic.”

John winked. “Not yet,” He looked down at the ground, where the Colt lay. He crouched down and picked it up and sighed. “What a pain in the ass this thing’s been.”

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Sam challenged. “We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“Well, you found me,” the Demon said

“But the holy water?”

“You think something like that works on something like me?” 

Sam grunted, trying to escape. “I’m gonna kill you!”

“Ohh, that’d be a neat trick. In fact, here. Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy.” Castiel sent Sam a questioning look, but he wasn’t paying attention to him. He was clearly trying and failing to move the gun with his mind. The Demon chuckled. “Well, this is fun. I could have killed you a hundred times today, but this…” he sighed, “this is worth the wait.” Castiel gave up trying to break free. The Demon turned to Dean. “You're dad, he’s in here with me. Trapped inside his own meatsuit. He says ‘hi,’ by the way. He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood.”

Dean’s voice was barely above a whisper, but he still managed to sound threatening. “Let him go, or I swear to God-”

“What? What are you and God gonna do?” The Demon grinned at Castiel, briefly, before turning back to Dean. “You see, as far as I’m concerned, this is justice. You know that little exorcism you pulled? Sure, she killed Castiel’s father, but she was my daughter.”

“You exorcised Meg?” Castiel asked, unsure how to feel about it.

Dean’s eyes softened as they met Castiel’s. “I’m sorry you weren’t there. It was the only way we could find you.”

Castiel nodded, and the Demon continued speaking. “The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? You think you're the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children! How would you feel if I killed your family?” The Demon grinned. “Oh. That’s right. I forgot. I did.” Dean’s expression was downright murderous. “Still, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“You son of a bitch.”

Sam decided it was time to call attention to himself. “I want to know why. Why did you do it?”

“I’d like to know that as well,” Castiel’s voice was calmer than he thought it would be.

The Demon turned to Sam. “You mean why did I kill Mommy, and pretty little Jess, and Castiel’s Daddy?”

“Yeah.”

The Demon didn’t answer them, just turned back to Dean. “You know, I never told you this, but Sam was gonna ask her to marry him.” Castiel glanced at the younger Winchester, whose gaze was turned to the floor. The Demon started to back away from Dean. “Been shopping for rings and everything.” He ended up in front of Sam, almost nose to nose. “You wanna know why? Because they got in the way.” He looked at Castiel. “We weren’t sure about you yet, so we asked your Daddy a few questions about you. They were very revealing, you know. He had no idea.”

“In the way of what?” Sam questioned.

“Weren’t sure about  _ what?”  _ Castiel demanded. The Demon ignored him. He huffed in exasperation.

“My plans for you, Sammy. You… and all the children like you.”

Dean spoke up. “Listen, you mind just getting this over with, I really can’t stand all the monologuing.”

Castiel closed his eyes and concentrated. Before, when Meg had him pinned to a wall in a similar way, he had been able to break free, just for a moment. The Demon was talking to Dean again, but Castiel blocked it out. He was almost free, when-

“Dean!”

Castiel’s eyes flew open, and he saw Dean, blood running down his chest. The Demon looked very unhappy. The hunter threw his head back in pain and Sam shouted again, struggling, but they could only watch. Castiel closed his eyes again and tried to focus.

He fell to the ground, and he threw the first thing he could reach at the Demon. The thing just so happened to be an end table. Dean’s head dropped to his chest, but then John Winchester regained control of his body for a split second, and Sam was freed. Sam raced to the Colt, pointing it at his father, who was the Demon once again. “You kill me, you kill Daddy. Before you make that decision, I’d like to thank Castiel, for confirming what I already knew.” Castiel glared at him, but the Demon just smiled. “Not just anyone gets themself free of that, kid.”

Sam took advantage the Demon’s temporary distraction and shot his father in the leg. Dean fell to the ground and Castiel dragged himself over to his friend. He was still bleeding, right over his heart and Castiel pressed his hand over his chest, trying to make it stop. Sam joined them. “Dean? Dean, hey. Oh God, you lost a lot of blood.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s right here, he’s right here, Dean.”

“Go check on him,” Dean demanded. “Cas’ll take care of me.” Sam propped Dean’s head on Castiel’s thigh and then returned to his father’s side.

“Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah, Cas.”

John sat up, screaming his son’s name. Castiel’s head snapped towards them, and Dean sucked in a breath. “It’s still alive. It’s still inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me.” Dean made a soft noise of protest. “You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it, now!” Sam pulled the hammer and pointed the gun at his father.

“Cas…” Dean whispered. “Tell him no…”

Castiel complied. “Sam, don’t.”

“You’ve got to hurry.”

“Sam, you can’t.”

“I can’t hold onto it much longer.”

“Cas, stop him.”

“Sam, please, don’t,” Castiel pleaded, not just for Dean’s sake or John’s, but for Sam himself. He would never forgive himself.

“You shoot me, son you shoot me! Son, I’m begging you, we can end this here and now! Sammy, you kill me!”  
“Sam!”

In the end, Sam couldn’t. Just as he lowered the gun, black smoke billowed out of John’s mouth. Dean sighed in relief.

They all just laid there while Sam gathered their things, John on the floor in regret, Dean on Castiel’s lap, and Castiel trying to stem Dean’s bleeding. When Sam came back in from loading the car, he helped his father up and into the front seat, and Castiel stood with Dean. Together, they limped into the back, where Dean fell half-asleep against Castiel’s shoulder, and Castiel fell half-asleep against Dean’s head. He needed more coffee.

Sam was in the middle of making a plan of action when the truck hit them. Somehow, none of them saw it coming, but it knocked them all out. Castiel woke when Sam called his name.

“Castiel!”

“I’m fine, Sam.”

“How’s Dean?”

“I don’t know… I can’t... and I’m… tired…”

“Cas!”

 

 


	2. Where The Sidewalk Ends

 

1995

 

“Dad, I don’t think they’re going to believe it was ‘kids at school’ this time,” 16-year-old Castiel Novak warned his father as they drove to the hospital.

“Nonsense, son. High schoolers are stupid, they stab people all the time,” Daniel reasoned, patting his son on the head condescendingly.

Castiel, not sensing the sarcasm in his father’s voice, maybe because he was in pain, maybe because he hadn’t quite grasped the concept yet, frowned. “I’ve been to a lot of high schools, and not once has anyone been stabbed.”

“I was being sarcastic, son.”

“Oh.”

“In any case, it happens enough for them to believe it. Especially to…” Daniel trailed off, shooting his son a look.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You can say ‘gay,’ Dad, it’s not a bad word.”

“You’ve got an awful big mouth for someone who’s just been stabbed by a witch, there, Castiel.”

“You’ve got an awfully flippant tone towards your son who’s just been stabbed. Most fathers would be a little more worried. Or nice,” Castiel accused.

“Wow. Stabbed is not a good color on you. I suppose I _would_ be more worried 

if you acted more hurt. Or if this was the first time you’d been stabbed,” Daniel defended with a grin.

“This is the first time I’ve been stabbed.”

“Really? Well, you're handling it remarkably well, son.”

Castiel rolled his eyes.

When they got to the hospital, they played it up for the nurses so that Castiel would be treated quickly. Daniel acted frantic and Castiel acted like he thought he was going to die.

When the nurse came in after Castiel’s condition was stable, her face looked incredulous. “I can’t believe it. The knife punctured your spleen. You should, by all accounts, be dead.”

Castiel exchanged a glance with his father, who looked legitimately concerned. “What does that mean?”

The nurse shrugged. “Well, it means you have a miracle child. He seems perfectly fine now, but we are still going to perform surgery.”

Daniel smiled with no teeth. “Sounds good.” After she left, he turned to his son. “That’s strange.”

Castiel nodded. “Do you think it’s witchcraft? Maybe there was something on the knife?”

Daniel sighed. “I’m just glad you're alive, son. Like she said, a miracle child.”

 

\---*---

 

2006

 

“Wait, what? But he’s not dead.” These were the first words Castiel heard upon awakening.

“Yes, I know. It’s a miracle. But he’s lost too much blood to be alive and the head injury should have left him brain dead. Your friend is a miracle.” Castiel heard the door open and close, and he opened his eyes. Sam Winchester was standing at the foot of the bed, looking stunned.

“Sam?”

The younger man turned and grinned at the sight of his friend. “Hey, Cas. The doctor just left.”

“Yes, I heard. What was he saying? I should be dead?”

Sam sat in the chair next to his bed. “Dude, I know. Apparently you should be dead right now, but your body’s just… healing itself. Really fast. Dude, when you came in here, they told me there was no chance you were gonna make it, and now you're awake before Dad and Dean. And you're totally fine. Do you think this is part of what the Demon needs you for? You know, fast healing?”

Castiel shook his head. “But I don’t heal fast. I never have. When I had that concussion, it took me almost a month to recover.”

Sam bit his lip. “Maybe it is just a miracle?”

“Or it’s the Demon healing me because he needs me alive,” Castiel countered.

Sam sighed. “Yeah. Has anything like this ever happened before?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “Once… when I was sixteen. I was stabbed by a witch, and there was a 30 minute drive to the hospital. When we got there, the nurses told us that my spleen was ruptured and that I should have died. My spleen wasn’t healing itself, but I was fine.”

Sam laughed a little, shaking his head. “Well, we’ll figure that out later. For now, I’m just glad you're alive. They said they can’t treat you, so you're allowed to check out, though I’m assuming you're gonna stick around for Dad and Dean?”

“Of course. But I would love to get out of this hospital gown.”

Once Castiel was all checked out, they decided to check on John and Dean. Sam explained that he didn’t know what conditions they were in, as the doctors had been much more concerned for Castiel. They asked the front desk for Dean first, and did not like what they saw when they got there.

Dean looked awful. He was connected to all kinds of tubes and monitors. “Oh, no.” Sam breathed.

Castiel heard a voice, not that far away, but there was no one nearby but him and Sam. He frowned and ignored it. They weren’t in there long before a doctor came in. “Your father’s awake,” he announced. “You can go see him if you like.”

Sam and Castiel traded glances. “Doc, what about my brother?”

“Well, he sustained serious injury, blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney. But it’s the head trauma I’m worried about.”

“Maybe he’ll have to get glasses too,” Castiel joked under his breath. The doctor went on.

“There’s early signs of cerebral edema. His condition is not unlike yours, Castiel. Let’s hope he makes the same miracle recovery.”

“What can we do?” Sam pressured.

The doctor sighed. “Well, we won’t know his full condition until he wakes up,” he paused. “ _If_ he wakes up.”

Sam and Castiel both looked towards the doctor. “If?” Dean would wake up. He had to.

“I have to be honest. Most people with his degree of injury, present company excluded, wouldn’t have survived this long. He’s fighting very hard. But you need to have realistic expectations, boys.”

Castiel nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.” Sam just nodded at him. “Come on, let’s go see your father.” They went down the hall to John’s room, Sam looking at his shoes the whole time. The eldest Winchester looked well, sitting up in bed. He had a sling on his arm, but looked otherwise unharmed. “Hello, John. You look as good as can be expected.”

John snorted. “If this is as good as can be expected, you two look like supermodels. Hey, Sammy.”

“Hey, Dad.”

John reached for his wallet that was on the bedside table. “Alright. Here. Give them my insurance.” He handed Sam a card.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Elroy McGillicuddy?”

“And his two loving sons,” he said, smiling. “Cas, I hope you have insurance.”

“I don’t suppose I’ll be needing it. I made a miracle recovery.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Miracle recovery.”

“I have suspicions of demonic influence.”

“Hey, or angelic influence. They really seem to think you have your own personal guardian angel,” Sam countered.

“Sam, please.”

John cleared his throat and gave them both a look. “Whatever it is, you're alive. How’s Dean?”

Sam sighed. “Not good. I didn’t understand much of what he was saying.”

Castiel explained what the doctor had said in more detail. “And there’s nothing they can do,” he finished.

“Look,” Sam said, “if the doctors won’t do anything, then we’ll have to, that’s all. I don’t know, we’ll find some… hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on him.” That sounded like something Dean would say.

“We’ll look for someone,” John assured them, “but I don’t know if we’re gonna find anyone.”

Castiel dropped his head into his hands. If the doctors couldn’t help Dean and _they_ couldn’t help Dean, who would?

“Why not?” Sam asked his father. “I found that faith healer before.”

“That was one in a million,” John argued.

“And you can’t exactly use the same method,” Castiel reminded him.

“So what? We just sit here with our thumbs up our asses?” Castiel groaned. Why hadn’t he gotten any coffee?

“I said we’ll look, alright? I’ll check under every stone.” Sam nodded his assent, and Castiel slumped in his chair. “Where’s the Colt?”

Sam straightened slightly. “Your son is dying, and you're worried about the Colt?” Castiel stood from his chair and started pacing. Sam and John seemed to argue a lot.

“Look, we are hunting this Demon, and maybe it’s hunting us, too. That gun may be our only card,” John defended.

“I thought Meg made it clear that I was a card as well?” Castiel challenged.

“I meant for defense, not for trading, Cas, jeez,” Castiel sighed.

“I’m going to go get coffee,” he grumbled, and left.

Sam caught up with him shortly after he left. “Hey, Cas!”

“Sam.”

“Hey, I’m gonna go meet up with our friend Bobby and get the Impala, you okay staying here?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. Call me if anything changes with Dean, alright?”

“Of course.”

Sam left and Castiel continued to his coffee. Instead of returning to awkwardly sit with John, Castiel went to Dean’s room. Predictably, he looked the same.

Castiel did not see how this was less awkward than sitting with John. He sighed. “I’m fairly certain it’s a myth that says people in comas can hear what you say to them. Either that or they just don’t remember what they hear. Either way, me talking to you serves no purpose except to make myself feel better.

“I didn’t believe you when you told me all Sam and your father do is argue, but I’m beginning to see the truth in it. It seems even when they agree, they disagree. Is that what having a sibling is like?” Dean, of course, didn’t answer. “I suppose if I’m talking to you I should tell you about my miracle recovery. I don’t have enough blood in me to be alive at the moment. I suppose some of it has been replaced, but all the same. I should also be brain dead. Sam seems to think it was some… superpower. I think it was the Demon. Although it has happened before, ten years ago, so he could be right. It seems too much to hope for.

“I just don’t want to let myself think it’s some healing power, because if it is… then I don’t know how to use it to save you. And I’ll never be able to forgive myself. This may come as a shock, but I don’t have a large variety of friends. The only friends I’ve ever had I stopped talking to when I left for college. In fact, the only hunter I stayed in contact with was my father, and all my friends were hunters. I regret that now, as I didn’t make any new friends in New York. You were my first friend in 8 years. In fact, I would say you're my best friend. Probably. Congratulations.” Castiel paused awkwardly. “Please wake up. Please get better.” Castiel sighed. “I really don’t want to do this without you.”

Dean, lying in the bed, said nothing.

But the ghost of Dean, sitting in the chair across the bed, smiled. Although Castiel couldn’t quite hear him, he chose to speak anyway. “Don’t worry, Cas. I will.”

 

\---*---

John joined Castiel in Dean’s room after a time. He didn’t acknowledge Castiel’s presence or say anything, just stared at his son. Castiel didn’t dare interrupt his vigil. At some point, some doctor came and dragged John back to his own room for something, but Castiel did not move until Sam returned. He stormed into Dean’s room angrily. “So Dad’s trying to kill us.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he asked me to get some ingredients from Bobby, and I asked him what they were for, Dad said protection, but Bobby told me they were for a summoning spell.”

“He’s going to summon the Demon _here?_ ” Castiel asked incredulously.

“Yup. While his own son is dying. What a great guy.” Sam stormed out, presumably to chew out his father. Castiel followed. “You think I wouldn’t find out?” He demanded of his father.

“What?”

“That stuff from Bobby, you don’t use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one,” Sam accused. John looked to Castiel, but he just folded his arms and glared. “You're planning on bringing the Demon here, aren’t you, having some stupid, macho showdown.”

“I have a plan, Sam,” John assured them.

“Care to clue us in?” Castiel demanded at the same time that Sam shouted, 

“That’s exactly my point, Dean is _dying_ , and you have a plan! You know what, you care more about killing this Demon than you do saving your own son!”

“Do not tell me how I feel, I am doing this for Dean!”

“Revenge isn’t going to save him, John.” Castiel stated calmly.

“Exactly!” Sam roared. “You're not thinking about anybody but yourself, it’s the same, selfish obsession!”

Castiel’s head was starting to hurt. He was beginning to recognize that as a sign of demonic presence. Or maybe it was just all the yelling. Castiel blocked the Winchesters out and focused, and he thought he saw something, a flash of blue. A person. Castiel was about to tell the Winchesters he thought a demon was here, in the room, when a familiar voice echoed and a cup smashed.

Maybe it wasn’t a demon.

Castiel’s headache worsened as doctor’s voices came nearer. Instantly, he knew that something was wrong with his friend and he fled the room, Sam on his heels.

Dean was flatlining. He and Sam stood in the doorway. Sam was on the verge of tears, and Castiel was clutching his head, trying to concentrate. He didn’t know how he healed himself, but he did, he had to believe that now because if he could heal himself, he could heal Dean, right? He felt his nose start to bleed, but there was something stopping him, something he couldn’t break through. It was too much to ask for.

Castiel heard Dean’s voice echo again, and from the look on Sam’s face, so did he.

The doctor announced that they had a pulse, and Castiel relaxed. Sam breathed out a sigh of relief and laughed a little. “Cas, your nose is bleeding.”

“Sam. Did you hear what I just heard?” Castiel asked.

Sam’s eyes widened. “You mean Dean? You heard his voice, right?”

“Yes! And before, in your father’s room?”

“No, I didn’t hear him then.”

“I thought I saw him, too.”

“Cas, if we can talk to him… maybe we can save him.” Castiel nodded in agreement. Sam bit his lip. “Cas… the Demon said he had plans for me, and the children like me… well, I don’t think it’s normal to hear people in comas speak, you know. Maybe this is what he meant, maybe you're one of those other children and that’s why the Demon wants you.”

Castiel thought about that for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Meg and the Demon both made it seem like I was different than you, and they definitely didn’t come after me as a baby. So maybe whatever the Demon wants you for and whatever it wants me for are different things, but-”

“But we have some of the same… abilities. Like you can heal yourself while on the verge of death, and I have visions, but we can both sort of… hear through the veil?” Sam finished.

Castiel nodded. “I believe we’re starting to make sense of things, Sam. Come on. I have an idea on how to speak to your brother.”

 

\---*---

 

“Cas, if Dean really is a spirit, he’s gonna laugh his ass off at us.”

“I’d like to think I’ve gotten used to that.” Castiel pulled out the Ouija board, setting it up on the ground at the foot of Dean’s bed. He scooted over. “Do you want to do the honors?”

Sam cleared his throat, sitting on the ground next to Castiel. He placed his hands on the chip and spoke aloud. “Dean? Dean, are you here?”

The chip moved to yes. Castiel grinned and nodded at Sam to go on.

Sam laughed in relief. “Oh, it’s good to hear from you, man. It wasn’t the same without you, Dean.” The chip moved again, spelling out H-U-N-T. “Hunt? What, hunting? Are you hunting?” The chip moved back to yes. “Dean, it’s in the hospital, what you're hunting… do you know what it is?”

R-E-A-P

“Reaper,” Castiel finished. He and Sam traded a worried look.

“Dean… is it after you?”

Castiel crossed his fingers in hopes that the answer would be no. But, for the third time, Dean said yes.

Sam sighed. “If it’s here naturally, there’s no way to stop it.”

Castiel lay back against the floor. They couldn’t kill death. “There has to be something.”

“You think we can kill it?”

“No, even if we did it wouldn’t do much good. All that would get us would be angry reapers. It wouldn’t heal Dean, just…”

“He’d be stuck here.”

“Yes.”

“No. No, no, no. There’s gotta be a way.”

“We’ll find it,” Castiel concurred. Sam stood, and he helped Castiel up.

“Then let’s get to work. Come on, Dad will know what to do.”

But when they got to his room, he was gone.

 

\---*---

 

They didn’t find anything useful about reapers in John’s journal. Sam finally shut it with a sigh. “I don’t know what to do, Cas.”

Castiel didn’t answer for several minutes. “He’s not going to die.” He couldn’t even fathom a world without Dean Winchester.

Sam stood and paced until he ended up on the other side of the bed. “Dean? Are you here?” There was no indication of that being so, but Sam continued anyway. “Couldn’t find anything in the book. We don’t know how to help you. But we’ll keep trying, alright? As long as you keep fighting.”

“Maybe we can practice seeing him in spirit form and then just take him along with us,” Castiel suggested.

“I don’t think that’s how that works, Cas.”

“I know.”

Sam shook his head and looked back down at his brother. “I don’t think Cas can handle me and Dad all by himself.” Castiel rolled his eyes. “You can’t- you can’t go now. We were just starting to be brothers again.” When Castiel looked up at him, Sam wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“He’s going to be okay, Sam, he’s going to get better- sooner than you know it.” And, as if waiting for Castiel’s words, Dean’s eyes flew open and he took a great, gasping breath all on his own. Castiel sat up. “Dean?” He started to choke on whatever tube was in his mouth and Sam called for help, but Castiel couldn’t help but grin. When he looked up, Sam was grinning too. “I told you.”

Once Dean was taken off the majority of his machines, the doctor came in to diagnose him. While he was off collecting results, Sam and Castiel shared everything that had happened while he was asleep.

The doctor came back with good news. “I can’t explain it. The edema’s vanished, the internal contusions are healed, your vitals are good. You got to have some kind of angel watching over you-” Dean smirked at Castiel, “-for two miracles like this. God owes you guys some favors.”

“Thanks, Doc.” It was so good to hear Dean’s voice. When the doctor left, Dean turned to Sam and Castiel. “You said a reaper was after me?”

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed.

“How’d I ditch it?”

“You got me. I’m not convinced Cas didn’t do something, though.”

“Why? ‘Cuz he’s an angel?”

“No, because he healed himself when he was supposed to be brain dead, and _right before_ you woke up, he said that you were going to be better sooner than I knew it.” Sam explained excitedly.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I don’t think so. For one, I didn’t have a headache-”

“Why would you have a headache?”

As Sam started to explain their realizations after Dean’s flatline, Castiel sat down and began to contemplate what Sam had said. Could he have healed Dean? He didn’t think so. He had a rather ominous feeling about the whole thing.

“So you really don’t remember anything?” Sam confirmed.

“No, except this pit in my stomach.”

“I agree. Sam, something about this feels, very, very off.” Castiel informed them.

John Winchester knocked on the door. “How you feeling, dude?” Castiel’s bad feeling intensified.

“Fine, I guess. I’m alive.”

“That’s what matters,” John asserted.

“Where were you last night?” Sam demanded.

“I had some things to take care of.”

“Well, that’s specific.” Sam didn’t sound angry, just resigned.

Dean and Castiel traded looks before rolling their eyes. “Come on, Sam.”

Sam ignored him. “Did you go after the Demon?”

John looked away. “No.”

“You know, why don’t I believe you right now?”

Dean sighed. But then John surprised them all. “Can we not fight? You know, half the time we’re fighting, I don’t know what we’re fighting about. We’re just butting heads. Look, Sammy, I’ve… I’ve made some mistakes. But I’ve always done the best I could.” John looked over his boys lovingly. “I just don’t want to fight anymore, okay?”

Sam looked confused. “Dad, are you okay?”  
John nodded. “Yeah, yeah, just a little tired. Hey, son, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, come on, Cas.” Castiel stood quietly, waving goodbye to Dean. “Well, that was weird,” Sam announced as soon as they stepped outside.

“Yes, I find it very strange that when your father gives you kind words, you assume something is wrong with him,” Castiel observed.

“Yeah, well, he’s kind of gruff, and very proud.” Sam explained. “You know, you’ve never really told me about your father.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “It’s been a year and I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

Sam nodded. “Was it easier, because you’d been away at college?”

“Heavens, no. Trust me, I believed my father was dead plenty of times growing up, but…” he sighed. “I hadn’t even seen him in a month. The last words I spoke to him were: ‘Thank you for the notebook and be careful out there.’ And the next time I saw his face, he was laying on a table in a morgue. Sometimes I wonder if he was feeling lonely, like I’d forgotten about him. I wonder if I had done anything differently-”

“Would he still be alive.” Sam finished. Castiel nodded. “I’m really sorry, man. What was he like as a father?”

“He was strict, but not in a mean way. He had a much better sense of humor than I do. He wanted me to be just like him, and when he found out I wasn’t, he had trouble accepting it, but he did, in the end. He cared more about morals and doing the right thing than anything else. He- he believed in me, and he supported me when I needed him, even when he was disappointed in me.” Castiel took a shuddering breath and blinked tears from his eyes. “I miss him. He was the only family I had.”

Sam patted him on the shoulder. “Not anymore.”

Castiel smiled tearfully at him. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Don’t mention it. Do you take creamer?”

 

\---*---

 

When they got back to the hallway where Dean and John’s rooms were, Sam and Castiel split up, Castiel going back to Dean and Sam to find his father.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. Glad to see your coffee addiction is still going strong. But you can’t. Because you're not wearing your glasses.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Are those your two main points of teasing?”

“Uh, no. The main point is, of course, bees.”

They heard shouting from down the hall, where John’s room was. Castiel felt like he was going to throw up. “Dean…”

“Help me up.”

Castiel hauled Dean up by his biceps and helped him stumble towards the shouting, Sam’s shouting. Dean balked at the sight before them and clutched at Castiel’s shirt. “Dad!”

Sam was kneeling over his father, screaming for help. Castiel let Dean fall, too. When the doctors came, he answered their questions and let the Winchesters stand in stunned silence. Castiel stood beside them as they watched the doctors give up, call time of death on one of the best hunters the 21st century had seen. Sam covered his face with his hands and fell back to the floor. Dean collapsed back into Castiel, who caught him and went down on the floor with him. Neither of them seemed to have it in them to cry.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel took care of everything. He worked everything out with the hospital so that the Winchesters could give their father a proper hunter’s burial. When his own father had died, Castiel had been too grief-stricken to give him even that. He’d just asked for him to be cremated. He made the pyre himself and set everything up so that all Sam and Dean had to do was be there and grieve.

John Winchester was burned in a forest in Kansas, per his sons’ request. They buried his ashes under a cross. While they were standing there, all wondering what on Earth could have caused this, Sam spoke for the first time in a week. “Did he say anything to you?”

Castiel was good at picking out lies, in Dean more than anyone. When he answered answered his brother’s question with a ‘no,’ Castiel was immediately on edge, but he wouldn’t push it. Not here, not now.

Castiel couldn’t bear to go home, and besides, Bobby Singer had Dean’s car. He got them to Sioux Falls in a stolen rental car, and while the boys were mostly quiet, it wasn’t the angry, stifling silence from before they laid John Winchester to rest. It was more of a heavy, sad silence, and Castiel was grateful for it. It was too draining for them to be angry, though if he knew the Winchesters, they would soon revert.

They arrived at Bobby’s salvage yard very early in the morning. Castiel opted to wait in the car until a more reasonable hour, but Dean suggested they sleep under the stars, so they got out and lay in the grass, with no blankets and no pillows.

“Cas?” Dean whispered just after Sam fell asleep.

“Yes, Dean?”

“How long did it take before it stopped feeling like this?”

Castiel turned his head and met his friend’s eyes. “I don’t know how you feel right now, Dean. People grieve in different ways.”

Dean turned away. “Nevermind.” Castiel was silent for a few minutes, contemplating the stars. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dean beat him to it. “But I mean- you seem fine now, but you didn’t seem fine when I first met you.”

Castiel frowned. “When we first met, I had been kidnapped by a shapeshifter, and my father had only been dead two months.”

Dean sighed. “This sucks.”

“I wish I could tell you it got better.”

“I know.”

 

\---*---

 

Bobby found and woke them in the morning by pouring ice cold water on all their faces. “Wake up, princesses.”

Dean was on his feet first. “Bobby, what the hell?”

“You sleep on my lawn, this is what you get. I haven’t heard from you idjits in a week, what the hell happened?” Bobby was a gruff man, shorter than Castiel but somehow managing to make him feel small.

Castiel stepped forward. “I’m sorry, sir, I- it didn’t occur to me that we should call.”

“Novak’s boy, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, well, cut the sirs. I’m not that old. Get your wet asses in here,” Bobby ordered.

Castiel frowned. “Only our heads are wet.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “For now, smartass.”

Castiel’s father had often told him people would think that about him if he wasn’t careful. Not everyone meant just exactly what they said. He was never quite sure how to feel about the title. For now, he just followed the Winchesters inside, where he was given a towel.

Castiel frowned some more. “Won’t our hair just dry?”

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the towel from Castiel, dropping it on his head. He then proceeded to rub it into Castiel’s hair, drying it. Upon removing the towel, he smiled for the first time in over a week. “You look like a drowned cat.” Castiel glared at him. Dean just smirked and plucked his glasses from his front pocket, placing them on his nose. “Perfect.”

“What are you boys doing here? And where’s your daddy?” The Winchesters looked at the ground, and Castiel stepped forward once again.

“He’s dead, s- Bobby.”

Bobby frowned. “I thought you said he was fine, Sam.”

“He was,” Sam defended.

“And then he wasn’t.” Dean finished.

Bobby nodded. “Alright then.” He looked at Castiel. “You took care of everything? And these boys?”

“Yes. We just- Dean wants to fix the Impala,” Castiel explained.

Bobby looked over him and then nodded again. “Alright, Novak. Come on, Dean, let’s go assess the damage. Sam, Novak-”

“Castiel.”

“Castiel. Help yourselves to the fridge.” Bobby and Dean left for the salvage yard, and Sam and Castiel found bagels. They sat on the couch in silence for a while, until Sam cleared his throat.

“Cas, I uh- I really appreciate you being here for us. I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Sam admitted.

Castiel smiled a little. “Of course, Sam.”

 

\---*---

 

Dean didn’t want to talk about it. While Sam and Castiel had late nights sitting around in their pajamas, discussing their experiences like normal, healthy people, Dean scoffed at them. During the day, he worked on the Impala almost nonstop, and Castiel was growing worried. He barely ate, he barely slept. One day, Castiel decided to go out and watch him work.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean. How is the car doing?”

“Well, I would explain if I thought you would understand anything I would say.”

“Fair enough.” Castiel looked down at his feet and took a deep breath. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to… talk. About your father.” Castiel wasn’t sure what type of reaction to expect from the older Winchester, but he didn’t expect a good one. Still, he couldn’t just not ask, not care.

Dean spun around, planting his hands on the car behind him. “You wanna talk about it?”

Castiel shrank away. “I-”

“Look, Cas, I get that you're trying to help and all, but just stop, okay? I don’t wanna talk about it, because talking’s not gonna make it better. I don’t want to sit around and eat popcorn and share my goddamn feelings, okay? I just want to work on the car, and then I want to kill a Demon, okay?” Dean wasn’t shouting, but his tone was not happy, either.

Castiel stared into his eyes for a few seconds. Dean was unmoving, solid as rock under those eyes. He sighed. “I understand. I just thought I would ask.”

 

\---*---

 

Castiel wasn’t quite sure what to make of Bobby Singer. Supposedly, he was the head of the hunting network. Everyone knew who he was, and everyone called on him for help at some point or another. Castiel knew his father had trusted him.

But he was a little strange. But maybe it was just Castiel, being strange himself. For example, not many men Bobby’s age objected to being called ‘sir,’ and even less made cherry pie.

“It’s for Dean,” he explained to Castiel in low tones when questioned about it. “Cherry’s his favorite, or at least it was when he was 12. I just thought it’d do him good to get some food in him, and trust me, he never turns down a slice or three of pie.”

Castiel nodded. “How long have you known them, the Winchesters?”

Bobby sighed. “Around 17 years. When I met Sam, he was six years old and barely knew anything. I mean, sure, he was smart, but Dean and John were real hushed about hunting.” Castiel nodded. Despite John’s story, he supposed it was a good thing that Sam had been protected from the truth for as long as possible. “Anyway. I heard about your old man. You ever find out what happened to him?”

Castiel frowned. “I thought Dean exorcised Meg here?”

Bobby nodded. “He did. She behind it?”

“She was working for the Demon. It said that they asked my dad questions about me that were very revealing. I don’t know what they want me for, but I’m inclined to find out.”

Bobby patted Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. Your dad was a good friend.”

Castiel nodded. Sam poked his head through the door. “Hey, Cas, I think I got something.”

“What is it?” Castiel followed Sam into the living room.

“Well, I was going through one of my dad’s old phones, and I just cracked his voicemail code. Been working on it for a few days. I found one from four months ago, listen.” Sam held the phone out to Castiel, who too it and listened intently.

It was a woman’s voice. “John, it’s Ellen… again. Look, don’t be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me.” The message ended. Castiel handed the phone back to Sam.

“Was that Ellen Harvelle?”

“You know who she is?”

“She runs a bar called the Roadhouse, many hunters go there. My father and I always visited it when we were close by,” Castiel explained.

“Great! Well, can you call her?” Sam asked enthusiastically.

“I’m afraid I no longer have her number, but I can take us there once the car is fixed,” Castiel offered.

“We can just take one of Bobby’s cars. Look, I’ll go show Dean, and you ask Bobby, okay?”

Castiel returned to Bobby in the kitchen and asked him about borrowing a car over a slice of pie. The Winchesters came in, and true to Bobby’s prediction, Dean ate several slices. Once they were finished with it, Bobby ordered them to get their stuff together and meet him outside.

“Sorry, boys, but this junker is the only workin’ car I got,” Castiel saw Dean grimace.

He took a deep breath. “Alright, well, Cas, you're driving.” Castiel glared at him.

The ride wasn’t terribly long, but Dean’s displeasure with the car and… everything else made it seem like forever. Castiel was relieved when they finally got to the familiar building.

“There’s no one here, Cas.” Dean pointed out needlessly.

“The Harvelles lives here, Dean. I think we can just-” the door was open, “walk in.” Castiel crept in, the Winchesters behind him. “I’m going to go check upstairs.”

Not five minutes later, he heard fighting and shouting. It appeared the Harvelles had found the Winchesters. He bounded downstairs to find Ellen and Jo with guns at his friends’ backs. Sam’s hands were on his head and Dean was doubled over, holding his face. When Jo saw him, she lowered her gun. “Castiel!” She dropped the gun entirely and rushed at him, throwing around his neck. “God, I haven’t seen you since I was 12! What the hell have you been doing?”

“I went to college,” he answered, awkwardly patting Jo on the back. She stopped hugging him.

“Yeah, and then he became a florist,” Dean snickered. Castiel and Jo both glared at him.

Castiel turned to Ellen, who had also lowered her gun. “Hello, Ellen.”

“Hey, Castiel. Your daddy told us all about you going to college. We were real proud, you know. Now, who are these jokers?” She asked, gesturing at Sam and Dean.

“Right, of course. Ellen, Jo, this is Sam and Dean Winchester,” Castiel introduced, pointing at each boy in turn. “And this is Ellen and Jo, they run the Roadhouse.”

“Winchester? John’s boys?” Ellen clarified. Castiel nodded. She grinned. “Well, hey, I’m Ellen, and that’s Jo.”

Jo squinted suspiciously. “Hey.”

Dean stared at her warily. “You're not gonna hit me again, are you?”

Castiel leaned over and whispered to Jo, “You should.” Dean glared at him.

Ellen placed her gun on the bar and came over to Castiel. “Well, damn, Novak, you filled out. You were always such a scrawny teen-”

Castiel could hear Dean snickering. He blushed. “No, I wasn’t.”

Ellen laughed. “Whatever you say, Castiel.” Her voice turned soft. “I heard about Daniel.” Castiel looked at his shoes. “I’m real sorry, honey.” She ruffled his hair in a familiar gesture, making him smile. “We are gonna catch up on everything you’ve been up to, but I have a feeling you're not here for chit-chat, so let me get your friend here an ice pack, and then we’ll see what’s what.”

While Ellen went to retrieve an ice pack, Jo let Sam and Dean sit down and then sat next to Castiel. “I was pretty upset when you stopped visiting, you know,” she informed him.

Castiel nodded. “I wanted a new beginning. The only person I had contact with was my father.”

“I get that. You probably also thought of me as a weird, annoying little girl.” Jo bumped his shoulder.

Castiel laughed. “Only sometimes. I missed you too, though. I still have the butterfly knife you gave me for my sixteenth birthday.”

Jo laughed. “Oh, God, I had the biggest crush on you back then.” They both burst into laughter. Castiel noticed Dean glaring at them.

Ellen returned with the ice pack. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Dean said. He cleared his throat. “You called our dad, said you could help,” he started. “Help with what?”

Ellen leaned against the table. “Well… the Demon, of course.” The Winchesters looked surprised, but Castiel knew better. Ellen could get anything out of anyone. “I heard he was closing in on it.”

“Was there an article in _Demon Hunter’s Quarterly_ that I missed, I mean how do you know about this?” Dean asked, incredulous.

Castiel and Jo both snorted. Dean glared at them again. “Hey, I just run a saloon.” Jo turned to Castiel and mouthed ‘saloon,’ and rolled her eyes. “But hunters have been known to pass through now and again, including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once, and I’ve been seeing Castiel’s sweet face since he was 7. I might even have pictures.”

Amusement flashed through Dean’s eyes, but he stayed on task. “How come Dad’s never mentioned you to us before?”

“You’d have to ask him that.” The Winchesters looked at the ground but said nothing to that.

“So, why exactly do we need your help again?” Dean asked defensively. Castiel kicked him, but the damage was done.

“Hey, don’t do me any favors. If you don’t want my help, fine. Don’t let the

door smack your ass on the way out. Not you, Castiel,” she added. “But John wouldn’t have sent you if…” Realization spread over Ellen’s face as the Winchesters once again looked at the floor at the mention of their father. Castiel traded a meaningful glance with Jo. “He didn’t send you.” Sam and Dean looked at each other. “He’s alright, isn’t he?”

Sam took a breath. “No. No, he isn’t. It was the Demon, we think, it um. It just got him before he got it, I guess.”

Ellen nodded mournfully. “I’m sorry.”

Dean lifted his head. “It’s okay, we’re alright.” Castiel rolled his eyes.

Ellen wasn’t buying it, but Castiel could have predicted that. “Really, I know how close you and your dad-”

“Really, lady, I’m fine.” Dean insisted. Castiel rolled his eyes again.

Castiel butted in. “Don’t worry about him, Ellen, he’s in a mood today, which is understandable-”

“Because the car we’re driving _sucks-_ ”

“That’s not what I was going to say, Dean-”

“I know what you were going to say, but I’m-”

Sam interrupted them. “So, look, if you can help… we could use all the help we can get.”

“Well, we can’t. But Ash will.”

Castiel frowned. “Who’s Ash?”

“Ash!” Ellen called.

Castiel jumped at the sound of a human falling off a pool table. He hadn’t even noticed anyone there, which was a bad sign. Perhaps he should wear his glasses more often. “What?” Ash, apparently having just woke up, asked. “Closing time?”

“That’s Ash?” Sam asked skeptically.

Jo nodded. “Mm-hmm. He’s a genius.”

Ash was invited over to the bar, where he sat by Dean, who apparently still felt the need to be rude to everyone, because the first words out of his mouth were: “You’ve got to be kidding me, this guy’s no-” Castiel kicked him again, and Dean turned to glare at him. Castiel glared back until Dean turned around. Sam dropped a folder of John’s research in front of Ash. “Alright. Well, this is about a year’s worth of our dad’s work, so let’s see what you make of it.” Dean challenged condescendingly.

Ash began to look through it, but after a few seconds he looked up. “Come on. This crap ain’t real. Ain’t nobody can track a demon like this.” Jo and Castiel traded smirks at Dean’s surprised look.

“Our dad could.” Sam assured him.

Ash looked impressed. “These are nonparametric statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations. I mean… _damn_ .” Castiel was relieved to see everyone else in the room was as confused as he was. “They’re are signs, omens, if you can track them, you can track this Demon- you know, like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning?” _Who has?_ Castiel thought. “It ain’t fun.”

“Can you track it or not?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, with this, I think so. But it’s gonna take time, uh, give me…” Ash thought for a moment. “51 hours.”

Dean looked pleased, finally. “Hey, man. By the way, I uh- I dig the haircut.”

Ash shrugged. “All business up front, party in the back.”

Castiel was very confused. When he noticed Dean _very obviously_ checking out Jo, he nudged him. “What?”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No _Jo._ She’s been like a sister to me.”

“I thought you hadn’t seen her in 9 years,” Dean stage whispered.

Castiel gave him a look. “No.”

“Fine,” Dean hissed.

Sam rolled his eyes at them. “Hey, Ellen, what is that?” He asked, pointing at

the machine on the back of the bar.

Ellen glanced back at it. “It’s a police scanner. We keep tabs on things-”

Sam interrupted her as Dean started to walk away, and Castiel went to follow him. “Dean, I said no.”

“What? I’m not doing anything, I swear!” Castiel glared at him, and Dean stared innocently back. He narrowed his eyes, but Dean did not budge.

“Fine. But I will kill you in your sleep.”

“She’s not 12 anymore, Cas.”

“Or I’ll push you off a cliff.”

“I said I wouldn’t do anything!” Castiel glared at him suspiciously one more time before going back to Sam and Ellen.

“What’s that?” He asked Sam as he took up Dean’s barstool. There was a pit in his stomach that said Dean was not going to be true to his word, but he was right. Jo hadn’t been his little sister for nine years, and she wasn’t 12 anymore.

“Uh, a case, I think. Hey, Dean, come here, check this out.” Castiel couldn’t help but silently thank Sam.

“Yeah?”  
“A few murders, not too far from here that Ellen caught wind of. Looks to me like there might be a hunt,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, I told her we’d check it out.” Sam informed them. Castiel frowned.

“Aren’t we supposed to be waiting for Ash to track the Demon?” he asked.

“We can get a hunt done in less than 51 hours,” Dean predicted. “I say we go for it.”

 

\---*---

 

“You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?” Sam asked as they were walking down the highway after being forced to ditch Bobby’s car. They’d broken into a house where a killer clown was about to kill a little kid’s parents and had had the police called on them.

“I did,” Castiel grumbled, but Dean said nothing, which surprised no one.

Sam, evidently, was fed up with this. “Man, don’t get all Maudlin on us.” Castiel did not understand that reference.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked defensively.

“I mean this strong, silent thing of yours. It’s crap, I’m over it.” Sam exclaimed.

“It is beginning to get rather unconvincing,” Castiel added unhelpfully.

“Oh, God,” Dean groaned.

Sam continued his rant. “This isn’t just anyone we’re talking about, Dean, this is Dad, I know how you felt about the man.”

“You know what, back off, both of you, alright? Just because I’m not sharing and caring like you two do at your slumber parties-” Dean started.

Sam interrupted. “No, no, no, that’s not what this is about, Dean, I don’t care how you deal with this, but you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I’m your brother, alright, I just want to make sure you're okay.”

“Dude, I’m okay! I’m okay! Okay, the next person who asks me if I’m okay, I’m gonna start throwing punches.” Dean threatened. “These are your issues, Sam, quit dumping them on me.”

They came to a stop. Sam turned to his brother. “What are you talking about?”

Dean did not lower his volume. “I just think it’s really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad, it’s like ‘oh, what would Dad want me to do?’ Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him, and now that he’s dead, now you wanna make it right? Well, I’m sorry, Sam, but you can’t, it’s too little, too late.”

Sam looked to be on the verge of tears. “Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this! I’m dealing with Dad’s death, are you?”

Sam just stared down at his brother. “I’m gonna call Ellen.” He walked away, leaving Dean and Castiel there.

“That was harsh,” Castiel informed Dean once Sam was out of earshot.

“He needed to hear it,” Dean defended.

“No, he didn’t. You know what I’d like to hear, though, is how exactly you think you're dealing with your father’s death?” Castiel asked as Dean sat down on the road.

“I _am_ , just- shut up.”

Castiel sat next to him. “No. You hardly sleep, you only talk when necessary, and when you do talk, it’s usually to be a bitch.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “How did you deal with it, then?”

“I got pneumonia.”

Dean snorted. “How?”

“Sitting in the rain. Then I returned to Denver and cleaned nonstop for about a week, and then I read a lot of books. And then I got kidnapped by a shapeshifter.”

Dean sighed. “So you kept busy. How is that different than what I’m doing with the car?”

“The difference is that I sat in the rain first, and I would have loved to talk to someone. Plus, I had a much healthier relationship with my father than you did with yours.” Castiel explained.

Dean rested his head on his knees, tucking them to his chest. “Sure.”

“You’d feel better if you talked about it,” Castiel suggested.

Dean just looked at him and shook his head. “What is there to talk about?”

 

\---*---

 

They made it back to the Roadhouse after killing the clown with part of a pipe organ. Ash was ready with their information.

“Did you find the Demon?” Sam asked as Ash set up his computer.

“It’s nowhere around, at least nowhere I can find,” Ash warned them, “but if this fugly bastard raises its head, I’ll know. I mean, I’m on it like divine on dog dookie.” Dean and Castiel traded confused looks.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

Ash looked very proud of himself. “I mean, any of those signs or omens appear anywhere in the world, my rig will go off like a fire alarm.”

Dean reached for the computer, and Ash looked affronted. “You mind?” Ash very much minded. Dean moved away.

“What’s up, man?”

Castiel frowned.

Sam shook his head, impressed. “Ash, where did you learn to do all this?”

“M. I. T., before I got bounced for... fighting.”

“M. I. T.?” Sam and Castiel asked at once.

“It’s a school in Boston,” Ash explained unnecessarily. Sam smiled.

Dean stood. “Okay. Give us a call as soon as you know something?”

“Si, si, compadre,” Ash agreed.

Castiel immediately straightened. He very rarely met other people who spoke Spanish. “Gracias por su tiempo y su ayuda.”

Dean stared at him. “What?”

Ash straightened as well. “El placer es mio.”

Dean stared at Ash. “What?”

Sam chuckled. “Whatever just happened, thanks. Hope we’ll see you again, Ash.” He waved to the girls behind the bar. “Bye, Jo, bye Ellen.” Dean waved as well, and then they were leaving. Castiel stayed behind for another moment to hug Ellen and Jo.

“Castiel, I’m telling you right now, if we don’t hear from you real soon, you're going to be in big trouble,” Jo warned.

“I will make an effort,” Castiel promised.

Jo patted him on the shoulder. “Would it make you feel better about coming over here if I promised not to make a move on your boyfriend?”

Castiel frowned. “I don’t have a-”

“Fine, I promise not to make a move on your crush.”

“Jo-”

“Save it, Castiel. You can’t fool me.”

Castiel didn’t see the point in arguing. And it would make him feel better. “Alright. Goodbye, Jo.”

“Bye, Cas.”

Dean was leaning against the porch when Castiel came outside. Sam was already in the stolen car. “So how many languages do you speak?”

Castiel shrugged. “I’m fluent in Spanish, English, Latin, and French, but I know some Mandarin and Russian.”

“Say something in French.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Vous êtes un crétin.”

“What does that mean?”

“It mean you're an idiot.”

Dean shoved his shoulder. “What’s that in Spanish?”

“Eres un idiota.”

“Nice. Latin?”

“Stultus es. Although ancient Italians didn’t have a work for idiot, so that’s not exact.” Dean just laughed and got in the car.

 

\---*---

 

They had barely been gone from Bobby two hours when he called them with a case. They had been headed back to Denver to figure out what to do next, but apparently the monsters of the world had other plans. Bobby had thought of them because of Montana’s relative closeness to Colorado. Dean had been quick to accept the case, and he seemed to be in a very good mood.

“How far to Red Lodge?” Dean asked.

“About another 300 miles,” Sam supplied.

Dean grinned. “Good.”

Castiel shook his head, smiling. “I’ll never understand why you like driving so much.”

“You don’t?”

“If I don’t have to, I won’t.”

Dean beat his steering wheel like a drum. “Ah, then I guess we’re a perfect match, Cas.” Sam snickered, and Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You said it, not me.”

Dean ignored him. “Alright, Cas, 20 Questions,” he announced. “Me and Sam never play because we know everything about each other.” Sam sat up in interest.

“I’m going to assume the game involves asking questions,” Castiel ventured.

“Yup. I ask you a question, you ask me a question, Sam asks you a question, you ask Sam a question, lather, rinse, repeat,” Dean explained.

Castiel frowned. “Aren’t those the directions for-”

“Not the point, Cas. Alright, so, question number one- what’s your favorite color?”

“Green. What is your favorite color?” Castiel shot back.

“Blue. Sam?”

Sam thought for a moment. “Do you dye your hair?”

Castiel gave him an incredulous look. “Of course not.”

“Sorry, had to ask.”

Castiel shook his head. “Okay, Sam, do you cut your hair?”

Sam squawked in indignation while Dean burst into laughter. “Oh, man, Cas, that was a good one. Alright, my turn.”

The game carried on in a similar fashion until the very end, when Castiel suddenly remembered something strange Dean had done not too long ago. “Dean, do you remember- and this is not my question- when you were telling that ridiculous story about why the Demon was after me?”

“It was not ridiculous! It could have happened!”

“The way you told it was ridiculous. Anyway, you assumed I was gay, and I told you that even though I am, you shouldn’t assume things, and you said you didn’t assume.” Castiel was unsurprised that Sam was unsurprised by this news.

Dean smirked at him in the rearview mirror. “Yeah?”

Castiel paused for a second. He’d thought his question was implied. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Dean.”

Dean sighed and glanced at Sam, who nodded encouragingly. “Do you sometimes meet a guy and you can just tell he swings your way?”

Castiel nodded, though he really didn’t get the metaphor. He could take a guess at its meaning, though. “I believed some people have coined it ‘gaydar.’”

“Yeah, that.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

This gave Castiel pause. “Dean, I’ve seen you flirt with multiple women on multiple occasions.”

“Yup. I also flirt with guys, you just haven’t noticed yet.” Dean admitted, with more than a little nervousness in his voice.

“Oh.” Castiel frowned. “You could have just said that.”

Sam twisted around to face Castiel. “Cas… our dad, he wasn’t the most… accepting person.” Castiel, immediately understanding, just nodded. Sam cleared his throat. “Did your dad know?”

Castiel snorted. “I told him when I was 14. He just stared at me and said if I was still sure in a year, he’d take it seriously. So I did, and that time he just stared at me and said, ‘whatever makes you happy, Castiel.’ It took some time, but he accepted every other unusual thing I happened to be.”

Sam turned back around. “I wish I could meet your dad.”

“I wish you could meet him, too,” Castiel said mournfully.

They were in Red Lodge a couple hours after that, and the first thing the three hunters did was get changed. Today, they were going to be reporters. Dean joked that Castiel could have been one in another life, as he oddly suited the clothing. Castiel stuck his tongue out at him. “Come on, we have an appointment with the police chief.”

The first question Sam asked as soon as they sat down in the sheriff’s office was, “We’d like to know about the recent murders.”

The sheriff sighed and placed his folded hands on the desk. “The murder investigation is ongoing, and that’s all I can share with the press at this time.”

Sam was prepared for this answer. “Sure, sure, we understand that, but just for the record- you found the first head last week, correct?” The sheriff nodded. “And the other, a Christina Flannigan-”

“That was two days ago,” the cop clarified. He was about to say something else when a blonde woman appeared in the doorway and tapped her watch. “Sorry boys, time’s up, we’re done here.”

“One last question,” Sam interrupted.

“Yeah, what about the cattle?” Dean quizzed.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained- over a dozen cases?” Dean tilted his head to the side.

“What about them?”

Castiel frowned. “Is it possible there is a connection between the two?”

“The two…?”

“Well, the cattle mutilations, and then two murders. That seems to be the making of a ritual,” he explained.

“You know, like Satanic cult ritual stuff,” Dean supplied.

The sheriff laughed, and then he seemed to realize they were serious. “You're not kidding.”

“No.”

The sheriff looked at them like they were idiots. “Those cows aren’t being mutilated. You want to know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because there’s no such thing as cattle mutilation!” Castiel rolled his eyes and looked to the door. The sheriff continued to talk to them like they were three. “Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within 48 hours the bloat will split it open so clean it’s just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground, get soaked up, ‘cus that’s what gravity does! But, hey, it could be Satan.”

The sheriff was about to say something else, but Castiel interrupted. “Officer, if that were true, then why would they be reported? Why not just taken care of? And for that matter, who leaves a dead cow out for 48 hours?”

The officer glared at him. “What newspaper did you say you work for?”

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. “ _World Weekly News._ ”

“ _Weekly World News,”_ Sam corrected.

“ _World- Weekly World-”_ Dean tried to rectify. Castiel dropped his face into his palm. Dean laughed. “I’m new.”

The sheriff glared at Castiel again, and then ordered them out. They gladly obliged.

Next, they were going to be medical students. They shed their blazers for lab coats and made their way to the medical center. When they got there, there was a man at the counter. They had no idea who he was, but Dean stepped forward and greeted him as ‘John.’

“Jeff,” Jeff corrected.

“Jeff, I know that,” Dean agreed. “Uh, Dr. Dorkin needs to see you in his office right away.”

Jeff narrowed his eyes. “Dr. Dorkin’s on vacation.”

Dean barely faltered. “Well he’s back. And he’s pissed, and he’s screaming for you, man, so if I were you I would-”

“Okay,” Jeff understood and dashed out of the room.

Castiel shook his head. “He’s going to be back sooner rather than later.”

“Then let’s get to work,” Dean suggested. “Hey, Sam, those Satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, reverse pentacle on the forehead.”

“Yeah. So much effed up crap happens in Florida,” Dean noted.

“My father was almost convinced to sell me to a gypsy in Florida,” Castiel agreed. Dean made a horrified face.

“Dude. What the hell?”

“He was very drunk, and the gypsy was very pretty.”

“Still.”

“Guys,” Sam interrupted, opening the correct crypt. He slid the body of the first victim out.

“Alright,” Dean nodded at Sam. “Open it.”

Sam looked up. “You open it.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and opened the box. Dean grinned at him and carried it to the nearby table. Sam and Castiel followed him. “Well, no pentagram.”

Sam swallowed. “Wow. Poor girl.” Castiel nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should, uh, look in her mouth, see if this wacko stuffed anything down her throat, you know, kind of like the Moth in _Silence of the Lambs,_ ” Dean suggested, but once again, neither Winchester was willing so the task was left to Castiel.

“The two of you would never be able to make it as doctors. Or scientists,” Castiel informed them as he dug his fingers into a dead girl’s mouth.

“Find anything?”

“No,” Castiel removed his fingers and wiped them on Dean’s coat.

“Real mature, Cas. Lift her lip up again, I think I saw something.”

Castiel did, and in her gum were several holes, like openings for a second set of teeth. “What is that?”

Dean reached over Castiel’s shoulder and pressed on the gum. Sure enough, a sharp tooth emerged. “It’s a tooth,” Sam commented unnecessarily.

“Sam, that’s a fang,” Dean corrected. Castiel suddenly realized that Dean’s entire body was pressed against his back, and his cheeks immediately heated. Dean took his hand out of the girl’s mouth and moved away from Castiel, who sighed in relief. “Retractable set of vampire fangs. You gotta be kidding me.”

Castiel frowned. “That is not the traditional vampire appearance.”

“Yeah, they actually have a second set of teeth that descends,” Sam explained. “This changes things.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

Castiel sighed. “Okay. Now that we’ve gathered our information, I suggest we go out of the window.”

“Why?”

“Because I can hear the assistant coming back and I don’t imagine he’s particularly pleased with us.”

The Winchesters listened for a moment and then turned promptly to the high, small window while Castiel returned everything to its rightful spot. Dean went up first, then Sam boosted Castiel through to Dean.

“Why do morgues have windows?” Dean asked as they were struggling to help Sam up.

“What?” Castiel gritted out. Sam was heavier than he looked.

“I mean, out of respect for the dead and stuff, shouldn’t they keep the room dark?”

Castiel glared at him. “You have a very strange thought process.”

Finally they succeeded in fitting Sam through the small window, and they snuck around the building until they were in sight of the parking lot. They sprinted to the car and practically leaped in, Dean going faster than was strictly necessary.

“Nice ears, Cas,” Sam commented once he caught his breath. “What now?”

“I suggest we change,” Castiel started, “and then we should attempt to find whoever is killing the vampires.”

“Why? Shouldn’t we just let them handle it and head on back to Denver?” Dean questioned.

Castiel sighed. “As much as I would like to return home, the situation may not be what we think. The killer could be another vampire out for revenge, or it could be a hunter who needs help, or it could be something else and it would be very irresponsible not to make sure.”

“He’s right, Dean. We can’t just leave and hope whoever’s doing this is on our side. Plus, we should still try to find the rest of the nest.”

“Alright, we’ll head back to the motel room and get changed, and then we’ll check out the regular hunter scenes and see what we can find,” Dean acquiesced.

 

\---*---

 

When they got back to their motel room, they changed, but did not depart immediately for what Dean termed ‘hunter scenes.’

“Why not?” Castiel asked after Dean explained they they were waiting a while.

“Because hunters that aren’t you usually hang out in bars, buddy. And no one goes to bars before seven, and it’s only three,” Dean reasoned.

Castiel huffed. “What are we supposed to do, then?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, sleep.”

“I slept in the car.”

“Then read a book.”

“I don’t have any good books to read.”

“Cas, I can literally see at least seven-”

“Those aren’t books you read when you're bored-”

“Cas, you and Sam are the only people I know who read when they’re _bored_ or _ever-”_

“That’s because you don’t know how to read and don’t bother to check if anyone besides us reads, I assure you-”

“I do so know how to read!”

“I’m sure.”

“You know what, hand me one of those, I’ll show you-”

Sam emerged from the bathroom and threw his shoes at them. “You guys are the worst.”

“Cas is _insulting me-_ ”

“Dean is insulting the both of us, Sam-”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing!”

“You didn’t say it in a way that led me to believe it was a good thing-”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You two have the weirdest relationship. I can’t tell if you're even mad at each other right now.”

“Mad? I’m not mad. This is just-”

“Mad? I’m not mad. This is just-”

“Playful banter,” Castiel finished.

“Yeah. That.”

Sam just shook his head. “You guys are weird.”

“You're weird,” they shot back in unison.

Sam muttered something under his breath that neither of them could quite hear but sounded suspiciously like ‘old married couple.’

 

\---*---

 

When it got dark enough for Dean, they drove around the town, trying to find a suitable place. Castiel had no idea what they were basing their choices on, but eventually they made one, and they went in, Castiel with instructions not to be weird. He didn’t know what that meant, but decided to just not do anything. He hung back while the Winchesters talked to the bartender.

They left soon after they arrived, having achieved their mission. Castiel had noticed the man in the corner listen to their conversation and then leave abruptly. Now it was just a matter of seeing if they would be followed.

They were, and not subtly. They turned a corner and waited, and when the man turned towards them, Sam shoved him against a wall, Dean and Castiel pinning each of his arms. Dean held a machete to his throat. “Smile,” Dean demanded.

“What?”

“Show us your teeth,” Castiel demanded.

“Of for the love of-” he glanced down at the machete. “You wanna stick that thing someplace else? I’m not a vampire,” the Winchesters looked at each other warily. “Yeah, that’s right, I heard you guys in there.”

“What do you know about vampires?” Sam questioned.

“How to kill them. Now, seriously, bro, that knife’s making me itch.” The man started to try and raise his arm and Castiel slammed it back against the wall. “Woah, easy, Chachi.” Castiel glared but allowed him to lift his arm to his mouth. He lifted his top lip, proving that he had no fangs. “See? Fangless. Happy?” On some unspoken agreement, all three of them stepped back. “Now, who the hell are you?”

Castiel spoke up. “My name is Castiel Novak, and this is Sam and Dean Winchester. Who the hell are you?”

The hunter laughed. “Damn. I had no idea I’d be meeting celebrities. I’m Gordon Walker.”

Gordon walked away, leaving the three ‘celebrities’ to follow. He led them to a red car, still chuckling. “Sam and Dean Winchester, and Castiel Novak. I can’t believe it. You know, I met your old man once, John, I mean. Never did get the chance to meet Daniel in person, but John- hell of a guy, great hunter.” Gordon’s voice softened. “I heard he passed recently. I’m sorry. It’s big shoes, John and Daniel, but from what I’ve heard, you guys fill ‘em. Great trackers, good in a tight spot.”

“You seem to know a lot about us,” Dean observed.

“Well word travels fast, and I mean, the Novak family practically invented hunting. I’d say there’s not a hunter worth his salt who wouldn’t know the name. You know how hunters talk.”

Castiel snorted. Hunters were, in fact, the worst gossips, mainly because of the Roadhouse and, mainly, Jo. Jo spilled every story to every hunter who passed through her door.

Dean glanced at him questioningly. “No, we don’t, actually.”

“Jo is the worst of all of them,” Castiel muttered.

Gordon laughed. “Isn’t she? I heard all about you and college and being a florist- nice, by the way. Very dangerous.”

“It was a nice change.”

Dean looked between the two of them incredulously. Sam spoke up. “So, um… so, those two vampires, they were yours, huh?”

“Yep. Been here two weeks.”

“Did you check out that Barker farm?” If Castiel didn’t know any better, he would think Dean was trying to one-up Gordon for information.

“It’s a bust. A bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill someone with that patchouli smell alone,” Gordon joked.

Dean was not joking. “So where’s the nest, then?”

Gordon laughed a little. “Thanks, but I got this one covered. Look, don’t get me wrong, it’s a real pleasure meeting you fellas, but I’ve been on this thing for over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I’ll finish it.”

“We could help,” Dean offered.

“Thanks, but, uh, I’m kind of a go-it-alone type of guy,” Gordon declined.

“Well, man, I’ve been itching for a hunt,” Dean pleaded.

“Sorry. But, hey, I hear there’s a chupacabra two states over. Go ahead and knock yourselves out,” Gordon nodded at them and got in his car, ready to drive away. “It was real good meeting you though,” he reiterated. “I’ll buy you a drink on the flipside.” And then he was gone.

Sam turned to his brother. “So, are we gone?”

“Hell, no.”

“You should never let anyone hunt alone,” Castiel informed him.

“You hunted alone, before we kidnapped you,” Sam pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“Follow him?” Dean suggested.

“Follow him,” Castiel agreed.

 

\---*---

 

They tracked him to a factory of sorts, not abandoned but decrepit enough that it could be. Castiel wasn’t really sure what to make of it; he wasn’t even sure what it was for, but the Winchesters drew their machetes and he did the same. As they were trying to determine a plan, Sam heard the distinct sound of a chainsaw, and they ran to it.

They arrived just in time for Sam to pull Gordon out from under it, and just in time for Castiel to punch a vampire in the face, which he had never done before and enjoyed very much. He enjoyed the vampire punching back less, but while Castiel distracted it by sparring with it, Dean came up from behind and threw him onto the ground where Gordon had previously been.

The chainsaw cutting through flesh and bone sent a spray of blood onto Dean’s face, dotting his cheeks like red freckles. When the deed was done, Dean turned around. Gordon, sickly, looked elated at the murder that had just taken place, while Sam and Castiel both looked like they were going to puke. Dean sighed and went to wipe the blood off his face with his sleeve, but Castiel stopped him, pulling a packet of tissues from his pocket. “Don’t even think about it. Here.”

Dean looked at the tissues, and then back up at Castiel. “Dude. Who the hell carries these things around?”

“I find them very handy both when wiping blood off of your face and during flu season. And in case of… bugs,” Castiel explained.

Dean grinned wickedly, utilizing the tissues. “You don’t like bugs? Oh, man, have I got a terrible story for you.”

“Dean,” Sam threatened, “I told you, you're not even allowed to _think_ about that near me for another year.”

Castiel wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want to know.”

Gordon shook his head at them. “I owe the three of you an apology. And a drink.” None of them objected.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel accompanied Sam back to the motel room after Gordon’s words and overall attitude had gotten to both of them during their time with him at the bar.

“I just don’t see how he can go ‘oh, that was a nice, flashy decapitation right there. Drinks?’ It’s kind of disgusting, isn’t it? And that kind of mentality- that makes him no worse than them. I mean, if we had the option of keeping these things that we kill alive and captive, like monster jail, we would do that, right? But he seems to take joy in killing things!” Sam ranted on the way there.

“I imagine if we had the funding, a monster jail would be preferable to killing them,” Castiel agreed. Sam shook his head in disgust, thoughts still on Gordon. “Dean has never really shown this pride in his kills before,” Castiel noted.

“Yeah, well, that’s ‘cuz he’s usually not like that. Today I guess he just wants to one of the cool kids. As usual,” Sam grumbled.

Castiel frowned. “I see.” He knew who the ‘cool kids’ were. The kids that changed aspects of themselves to fit in, isolated those they cared for when they wouldn’t. Castiel was all too familiar with the ‘cool kids,’ and he sensed Sam was, too. Dean had always seemed different. “I’m not sure if I appreciate Dean as a cool kid,” Castiel confessed to Sam.

“You should have seen him in high school,” Sam muttered venomously. “He was a real bitch.”

Castiel frowned deeper. “I don’t think Dean and I would have been friends in high school.”

Sam grinned for the first time that night. “Well, you know, it’s all just an act, it’s all bullshit, and you have some special superpower that I don’t know, sees through it or- I’ve just noticed that he doesn’t really do that as much around you. So I kinda wish you were around when Dean was in high school, maybe your presence would have made him less of a _bitch.”_

Castiel smiled wryly. “I don’t quite know what you mean by that, Sam, but thank you.”

Sam glanced at him, still smiling. “You're good for Dean. Bring out the best in him and all that.”

“I’m fairly certain that phrase is a romantic trope.”

“If the shoe fits.”

Castiel sighed, exasperated. “If the shoe fits _what?”_

Sam just laughed. “It’s an expression. It means that even though it’s meant for something else, if it applies, just go with it.”

“Oh.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Hey, so you said Jo told Gordon about us?”

“I believe it was implied.”

“Do you think I should call them, ask them about him, what he’s like?” Sam suggested.

Castiel shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt. Besides, they’ll be wanting to hear from us.”

Once they got back to the motel room, they shed their jackets and Sam hung the keys and they sat on the bed and used Castiel’s phone to dial.

Ellen answered. “Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”

“Hello, Ellen, it’s Castiel.”

“Heya, how are the Three Musketeers?”

Castiel frowned and looked to Sam, who just laughed. “Hi, Ellen, this is Sam Winchester, we’re good. Got a question.”

“Yeah, shoot.”

“You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?”

“Yeah, I know Gordon, he passed through not so long ago.”

“And?”

“He’s a real good hunter. Why you asking, sweetie?”

“Well, we ran into him on a job, and we’re kind of working with him.”

Ellen’s voice dropped into concern. “Don’t do that, Sam.”

Castiel furrowed his brow. “Why? Didn’t you say he was a good hunter?”

“Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter’s a good psychiatrist.” Castiel threw his arms in the air. He mourned his lack of knowledge on current pop culture. “Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he’s working on a job, you boys just let him handle it and move on.”

“Ellen-” Sam protested, but Ellen interrupted him right back.

“No, Sam, you just listen to what I’m telling you, okay?”

Sam nodded. “Right, okay.”

Ellen sighed. “Alright. Good to hear from you boys.”

“You as well, Ellen. I’m sure the Roadhouse is very full at the moment, so we should let you return to work,” Castiel closed.

“Yeah, we’re packed. In fact, Castiel, I think Luna Reyes is in here, if you want to say hi-”

“Ellen, I’m hanging up now,” Castiel informed her, cheeks heating.

“Oh please, I’m joking, she went crazy, wouldn’t touch this place with a ten-foot pole. She’s vegan now but she’s still in the business. Bonkers.”

“You act as if she was sane before. Goodbye, Ellen. Inform your daughter that we’re alive.”

“Bye, Ellen.”

“Bye, Cas, bye Sam.”

Castiel hung up and was immediately met with Sam’s raised eyebrows. “Luna Reyes?”

Castiel blushed again. “I don’t wish to speak of it.”

“Come on, Cas. I was just about to go get a soda, you can tell me on the way.” Castiel rolled his eyes but obliged.

Sam was laughing as they neared the soda machine. “Wait, so, lemme get this straight. She trapped you and her in a closet with a _ghoul_ for-”

“A romantic storyline,” Castiel finished, deadpan. “I haven’t seen her since.”

“That’s amazing. What do you want?” Castiel barely opened his mouth before Sam held up a hand to stop him. “Cas,” he whispered, “do you feel like we’re being watched?”

Castiel listened for a moment, and while he didn’t exactly _hear_ anything, chills ran up and down his spine, like a sixth sense. He nodded mutely to Sam. “Just act casual and then we can go back to the room.”

Sam nodded and purchased two of the same soda before briskly leading the way back into the room. With every step, Castiel wanted to start sprinting. Sam quickly unlocked the door and they slid inside. Castiel immediately felt better. “I’m sure it was nothing, but you can never be too careful.”

“No,” Castiel agreed. “Especially not with homicidal maniacs around. And the vampires.”

Sam snorted. “Dean’s not gonna like us leaving the hunt just because Gordon’s shady.”

“Yes, well-” Castiel was attacked before he could finish. He lost sight of Sam, but could hear a similar confrontation occurring. He didn’t last long before being hit with a phone, and Castiel was left to fend off two probably vampires on his own.

He did not last long against the phone, either.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel awoke abruptly, with vampire fangs in his face. His immediate reaction was to lean away, but then his hunter instincts got the best of him and he headbutted the vampire, which just made him angrier, but then a woman’s voice called for him to stop.

A girl stepped out from just beyond Castiel’s peripheral vision and undid the gags on the hunters. “My name’s Lenore, I’m not gonna hurt you, we just need to talk.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Talk? Yeah, okay. But I might have a tough time paying attention to much besides Eli’s teeth.”

“You’ll forgive him for being a little upset,” Castiel growled.

“Eli won’t hurt you either, you have my word,” Lenore unsuccessfully assured them.

“Your word? Oh, yeah, great, thanks. Listen lady, no offense, but you're not the first vampire I’ve met,” Sam responded venomously.

“We’re not like the others,” Lenore argued. “We don’t kill humans, and we don’t drink their blood, we haven’t for a long time.”

Castiel sighed. “I would love nothing more than to believe that, especially as we are currently tied to chairs, at your mercy, but I’m afraid your word is not sufficient proof.”

“Notice you're still alive,” Lenore countered.

Sam looked between her and the other vampire, who Castiel suddenly recognized as the bartender who had given both them and Gordon a false lead. “Okay, uh, correct me if I’m wrong here, but shouldn’t you be starving to death?” Sam asked in disbelief.

“We found other ways- cattle blood,” Lenore explained.

“I knew it,” Castiel muttered.

“It’s not ideal. In fact, it’s disgusting. But it allows us to get by.”

Sam was still not buying her story, though Castiel was beginning to. After all, if vampires started out as humans, perhaps they still held a shred of humanity. “Okay, um, why?”

“Survival. No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you to come looking for people like us,” Lenore’s tone indicated that she was nearing her point. “And we blend in. Our kind is practically extinct. It turns out, we weren’t quite as high up the food chain as we imagined.”

Eli, apparently, had had enough. “Why are we explaining ourselves to these killers?”

“Eli,” Lenore reprimanded.

Eli stepped forward, angry. “We choke on cow’s blood so that none of them suffer. Tonight, they murdered Conrad, and they celebrated.”

Castiel was suddenly gripped with sudden guilt. They never thought, they just killed whatever _they_ deemed needed to be killed. Rationally, he knew that they had no choice, it was kill or watch others be killed, but the vampire they had slain tonight _hadn’t_ killed anyone and _wouldn’t._ They’d killed him for the simple crime as existing as something he couldn’t help. There was a time when the same would have been done to Castiel. He felt awful, and couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes. He felt like his whole world, the code he had lived up to all his life, was crashing down.

_What would his father say?_

“Eli, that’s-”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel choked out. Sam whipped his head around to stare at him incredulously, and the two vampires with surprise. “I’m sorry that we murdered your friend just because of his fangs.”

“Um, to be fair, he was about to chainsaw someone,” Sam defended.

“Because he _attacked him,_ ” Castiel reminded him. Sam fell silent.

Lenore smiled at him softly. “What’s done is done. We’re leaving this town tonight.”

Sam was still very upset. “Then why did you bring us here, why are you even talking to us?”

“Believe me, I’d rather not,” Lenore made clear. “But I know your kind. Once you have the scent, you’ll keep tracking us, it doesn’t matter where we go. Hunters will find us.”

Sam twisted around to study Castiel, who was just staring at the ground, tears flowing freely down his face. “I wouldn’t be so sure, not if Cas has anything to say about it.”

“Then our purpose has been fulfilled, if this hunter’s remorse will keep you from tracking us. We have a right to live, we’re not hurting anyone.” Castiel choked back a sob.

Perhaps later Castiel would see the benefit of Sam’s skepticism next to his emotional breakdown, but at the moment it was a tad annoying. “Right, so you keep saying, but give me one good reason I should believe you.”

Lenore leaned in close to Sam’s face. “Fine. You know what I’m going to do?” She leaned in even closer. “I’m going to let you go.” Lenore pulled away. “Take them back. Not a mark on them.” Sam glanced at Castiel in fear, but he could only stare back in regret.

 

\---*---

 

The vampires very unceremoniously dropped them off in front of their motel room. Sam sighed. “How the hell are we going to convince Gordon to back off?”

Castiel just shook his head.

When they walked in the motel room, Dean was sitting at the table with Gordon, a map spread between them. When he heard the door open and close, Dean turned. “Where you two been? Out for a romantic stroll?”

Castiel frowned and was about to say something to the contrary, but Sam spoke first. “Can we talk to you alone for a second?”

Dean turned back to Gordon. “You mind chilling out for a couple minutes?” Gordon shook his head, and the three of them stepped back outside the door.

“Dean, maybe we gotta rethink this hunt,” Sam started as they began to walk forward aimlessly.

Castiel stared at him, affronted. “ _Maybe?_ We are _leaving them alone._ ”

“What are you talking about? Where were you?”

Sam sighed. “In the nest.”

“You found it?”

“‘Found’ is not the correct terminology,” Castiel corrected. “They took us there, and then they let us go, because they don’t hurt people. And we killed one of their friends, and they still didn’t hurt us.”

“Um, Cas, we killed that guy because, in case you didn’t notice, he was about to chop Gordon’s head off,” Dean argued, just the same as Sam.

“Yes, because _Gordon_ tired to chop _his_ head off,” Castiel reminded.

Dean sighed. “Alright, well, where is it?”

“We were blindfolded, we didn’t see anything, but we went over the bridge outside of town,” Sam informed him.

“And even if we had seen anything, we wouldn’t tell you,” Castiel grumbled.

Dean placed his hands on his hips. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It means we’re not killing them. They’re leaving town, and we’re not going to bother people who haven’t done anything _wrong._ ”

“Okay, first of all? Not people, Cas. Vampires. Second of all, the only reason you think they haven’t done anything wrong is because they let you go. For all we know, that could have been a tactic. And they kidnapped you, and this may come as a shock to you, since you’ve been living in the 14th century, but that is _illegal.”_

Castiel stepped forward, balling his hands into fists. “I’m not pressing charges, and I believe them.”

“How shockingly naive of you!”

“Guys!” Sam interrupted, stepping between the two hunters. “Listen, Cas? Calm down. You're not a vampire rights activist. And Dean, I really don’t think we should go after them, I don’t think they’re hurting people.”

“Oh, really? Then how do they stay alive, Sam, or undead or whatever the hell they are?” Dean challenged.

“The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood,” Sam explained.

“And you two knuckleheads believed them?”

Sam spread his arms wide. “Look at us, Dean! There’s not a scratch on either of us!”

Dean laughed. “Wait, so you're saying- no, man. No way. I don’t know why they let you go, I don’t really care. We find them, and we waste them.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “If you would open your mind a fraction-”

“Oh, ‘open my mind,’ Cas, you don’t even know who Luke Skywalker is!” Dean retaliated. Castiel glared at him darkly.

“Why, Dean?” Sam challenged as Dean started to walk away from them.

Dean looked at them like they were stupid. “What part of ‘vampires’ don’t you understand? If it’s supernatural, we kill it, end of story, that’s our job.”

“No, Dean, that is not our job, our job is hunting evil!” Sam warred.

“Being vampires does not make them inherently evil,” Castiel added. “Murdering people does, but these vampires are not killing people.”

“Of course they’re killing people, that’s what they do! They’re all the same, guys, they’re not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them, so tell me where the damn nest is!”

Castiel took a deep, steadying breath. “No, Dean, we don’t. If all vampires are the same, then all humans are the same, and we should be locked away on the logic that since people kill other people, we will too,” Castiel compared.

Dean notably ignored his entire point. “Gordon’s been on these vamps for a year. He knows.”

Sam scoffed, jumping back into the conversation. “Gordon?”

“Yes!”

“You're taking his word for it?” Sam reprimanded his older brother.

“That’s right.”

“Ellen says he’s bad news,” Sam informed him smugly.

“You called Ellen?” Sam nodded. “And I’m supposed to listen to her? We barely know her, Sam! No thanks. I’ll go with Gordon.”  
“Right, ‘cuz Gordon’s such an old friend.”

Castiel interrupted. “I’ve known Ellen my entire life. I trust her. Do you trust me?” Castiel met Dean’s gaze sharply and watched it soften.

Dean sighed. “Of course I trust you, Cas, I trust you with my life, I trust you with Sam’s life, but he’s been tracking them-”

“That doesn’t sound much like trust,” Castiel grumbled.

Sam cut in. “You don’t think I know what’s going on here?” he challenged his brother.

“What are you talking about?” Dean glanced at Castiel nervously.

“He’s a substitute for Dad, isn’t he? A poor one.” Castiel’s eyes widened at Sam’s accusation. This conversation had taken a turn into what could quickly become violence. Castiel liked to think he was a fairly calm person, but if Sam had said that to him, he would punch him.

Dean grinned like he found Sam’s accusation amusing. “Shut up, Sam.”

But Sam continued. “He’s not even close, Dean. Not on his best day.”

Dean turned and faced them, a fake smile plastered on his face. “I’m not even going to talk about this.”

“You slap on this fake smile, but I can see right through you, because I know how you feel, Dean, we both do! Dad’s dead, and he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can’t take it,” Sam spilled the truth like sand, leaving Dean in shocked silence. “But you can’t just fill up that hole with whoever you want to, it’s an insult to his memory!”

Castiel saw Dean ball his hand into a fist, the only outward appearance that Sam had got to him. Castiel grabbed that fist in his own hand and sighed before either Winchester could speak or swing. “Dean, I’m sure we could find our way back to the nest, if you want to meet the vampires and form your own opinion. We need to start with the bridge.”

Dean deflated, his shoulders sagging. “Thank you, Cas, for being an adult.”

“However, no matter your opinion, I’m not letting you kill them,” Castiel added.

Dean groaned in frustration. “You can’t stop me.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and leaned his face in closer to Dean’s. “Watch me.”

Dean swallowed and stepped away. “If that’s what it’ll come to.”

“I hope you’ll see reason and it won’t come to that.”

“I wish you could be right, Cas.” Dean marched back up to the motel room, and Sam stepped up beside Castiel, smirking slightly.

“He was gonna hit me.”

Castiel glanced at him in surprise. “And?”

“And he didn’t, ‘cuz of you. What’d I tell you. Bring out the best. I would pay you to make him a better person for the rest of my life.”

Castiel snorted and opened his mouth to respond when Dean stuck his head out the door. “Guys? Gordon’s not here, I think he went after the vamps.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “We have to stop him!”

“Still not sure about that, Cas, but we’ll see. Who has the keys?” Castiel looked at Sam, who pushed ahead into the room. Castiel followed.

Sam began to point at the small cactus on the dresser, but they found it devoid of all keys. “He snaked the keys,” Sam marveled.

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “I do believe the term ‘I told you so’ is in order here.”

 

\---*---

 

“I can’t believe this,” Dean muttered as he hotwired his own car. “I just fixed her up, too.” The engine started, and Dean turned to Sam. “So, the bridge, is that all you got?”

“The bridge was 4 ½ minutes from their farm,” Sam supplied.

“We took a left from the bridge,” Castiel added.

Dean frowned at Sam. “How do you know that?”

“I counted.” Castiel did not have the patience for that. They compared observations from their experience until Sam had a route to what was almost undeniably the vampire’s nest formed.

It took them too long to get there. They walked in on Gordon torturing Lenore, and Dean had to hold Castiel back.

Gordon appeared not to notice Castiel’s anger. “Sam, Dean, Castiel, come on in.”

Thankfully, Dean looked sickened. “Gordon, what’s going on?”

“Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man’s blood. She’s gonna tell her where all her little friends are, aren’t you?” The three hunters stepped forward cautiously. “Want to help?”

“Look, man-” Dean started, but Gordon interrupted.

“Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers.” Gordon sliced across Lenore’s wrist, and purple lightning bolts shot out from around the cut, inside Lenore’s skin. Dean had to hold Castiel back once again.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, let’s all just chill out, huh?” Dean didn’t sound overly concerned, but it was something.

“I’m completely chill,” Gordon assured them.

“Gordon, put the knife down,” Sam insisted a little more forcefully. Castiel drew his own knife.

“Looks like it’s these two that need to chill,” Gordon defended.

“Get away from her,” Castiel growled.

Gordon stared at him, emotionless. “You're right,” he threw the knife onto the table, and Castiel relaxed. “I’m wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery.” Gordon drew a machete, and Castiel straightened. “I just sharpened it, so it’s completely humane.”

Sam stepped forward at the same time that Castiel threw his knife at Gordon’s hand. He dropped the machete, and Sam took the time to free Lenore. When Gordon straightened, both Castiel’s throwing knife and machete in hand, Lenore was shielded behind Sam. Gordon pointed the machete at Sam’s chest. “Move.”

“Hey, hey,” Dean started carefully, moving toward Sam. Castiel moved with him. “Gordon, let’s talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? It’s like I said, Dean, no shades of grey,” Gordon’s voice was soft and eerily calm.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Dean agreed.

“I don’t,” Castiel whispered.

Dean pretended he didn’t hear him. “And I know how you feel.”

“Do you?”

“The vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but-”

Gordon chuckled. “Killed my sister. That filthy fang didn’t kill my sister. It turned her, made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself.”

Castiel stepped farther away from Gordon. Despite not having any siblings, he couldn’t imagine killing someone that important. He would never do that to Jo, the Winchesters.

Dean followed Castiel’s steps as Castiel had followed his. “You did what?”

“It wasn’t my sister anymore, it wasn’t human,” Gordon reasoned. “I didn’t blink. And neither would you.” Castiel dug his fingers into Dean’s elbow. _Never._

Sam moved Lenore farther away. “So you knew all along, then. You knew the vampires weren’t killing anyone.” Dean sighed and breathed an apology to Castiel under his breath. “You knew about the cattle, and you just didn’t care.”

“Care about what? A nest of vampires, suddenly acting nice, taking a little time out from sucking innocent people, and we’re supposed to buy that?” Gordon tried to argue, looking from Sam to Dean and Castiel.

Castiel stepped forward. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

“Guilty because it’s their nature, Castiel.” While Sam was distracted by the conversation, Gordon stole Lenore back from him and shoved her back in the chair, where she couldn’t be bothered to escape from. Both Sam and Castiel stepped forward, but Dean grabbed Castiel by the arm and Gordon threatened Sam with a machete. “Trust me,” Gordon asked them, but neither hunter moved. “It doesn’t change what they are. And I can prove it. Gordon grabbed Sam by the arm and sliced it with the machete, then moving it to his neck. Dean and Castiel both shouted, guns aimed on Gordon in seconds.

Gordon assured them Sam wouldn’t be hurt, which didn’t convince either hunter, but they didn’t move. Not like they could, as Gordon had a knife to Sam’s throat. He held Sam’s bleeding arm over Lenore’s face, and she looked up at it in awe. A drop of blood fell onto her face, and she gasped. Another fell, and her second set of teeth descended.

“Think she’s so different?” Gordon challenged. “Still want to save her? Look at her.”

“I am. I am looking and watching this vampire who _is not_ tied to her chair _not_ stand up for the blood that is less than a foot from her face. Evil.” Castiel noted drily.

Lenore’s fangs receded, though blood continued to fall. “No. No.”

Gordon stepped away from both Sam and Lenore, confusion written across his face. Sam helped Lenore back up. “We’re done here.”

Dean lowered his gun, as did Castiel. “Sam, get her out of here.” Sam lifted Lenore up and carried her out of the room, while Dean refocused his gun on Gordon. Castiel left his down, but still at the ready. “Gordon, I think we have some things we need to talk about.”

“Get out of my way,” Gordon demanded. Dean and Castiel did not budge. “You're not serious.”

“I’m having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw,” Dean admitted.

“I think this calls for another ‘I told you so,’” Castiel commented. Dean glared at him. He continued.

“If you want those vampires, you're gonna have to go through us. And, no offense, but I don’t think you can take Cas.”

Gordon sighed and stabbed both Castiel’s knife and the machete into the table. “Fine.”

Dean nodded for Castiel to unload his gun, but the second they did, Gordon started swinging. Dean sighed and began the fight. Castiel jumped over the table, pinning Gordon’s arms from behind. Though Gordon was bigger, he was struggling to escape, until he flipped Castiel over his back. Castiel suddenly couldn’t breathe, and he had to take a few seconds, during which Dean had stepped over him protectively. Castiel took this chance to kick Gordon in the kneecaps, and he went down, though he came down in such a way that he kneed Castiel in the stomach. Dean threw Gordon back by the shoulder and pointed his now loaded pistol into his face. He laughed. “It’s my turn for an ‘I told you so.’” He held a hand back for Castiel to grab, which he welcomed. Dean jerked his pistol upwards. “Up.” Gordon stood, and Dean directed him into the chair. “Cas, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean. My diaphragm was merely paralyzed for a moment.”

“What?”

“I had the wind knocked out of me.”

“Oh.” Dean handed off his pistol to Castiel, who accepted it happily. Dean unearthed some rope, tying Gordon to the chair with it. They all spent the night in charged silence, Dean and Castiel only ever speaking to each other in whispers.

Sam came back in the morning. Castiel could only assume he’d taken care of Lenore and brought her to her friends. “Did I miss anything?”

“Eh, not much.”

“Is Lenore okay?” Castiel inquired.

“Yeah, she and the other vamps left town.” Gordon did not look pleased. Castiel suddenly felt a little bad, remembering that he had spent a year on them.

Not too bad, though.

“Then I guess our work here is done,” Dean concluded.

Castiel yawned. “Coffee?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Always about the coffee with you,” he turned back to Gordon. “How you doing there, Gordie? Need to tinkle yet?” Gordon just glared. “Alright. Well, get comfy. We’ll call someone in two or three days, have them come out and untie you.” Castiel, of course, was not about to let Dean leave a person sitting tied to a chair for three days, but opted not to say anything at the moment. Dean stuck the machete into the table.

Sam turned to Castiel and shook his head. “You ready to go, Dean?”

“Not yet.” Castiel rolled his eyes. “I guess this is goodbye. Well, it’s- it’s been real.” Castiel mimed a groan. The Dean punched him in the face. Sam rolled his eyes with Castiel. Dean turned towards them. “Okay. I’m good now. Coffee?” Castiel grinned and followed Dean outside, tailed by Sam. As they were walking towards the car, Dean sighed. “I wish we never took this job. It just jacked everything up.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, frowning.

“Think about all the hunts we’ve been on, Sammy, our whole lives, all the hunts Cas and his entire frickin centuries old hunting family have been on. What if we killed things that didn’t deserve killing? You know, and Cas, you might be an exception, but the way Dad raised us…”

Castiel’s father had always made an effort to make sure that the things they killed were always the guilty party, but he wasn’t about to say that to Dean, not now.

“Dean, after what happened to Mom… Dad did the best he could,” Sam reminded him.

“I know he did. But maybe he wasn’t perfect,” Dean acknowledged.

“No one is, Dean,” Castiel admonished gently. Dean ignored him.

“And the way he raised us, to hate those things, and man, I hate them. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn’t even think about it. Hell, I even enjoyed it.” That gave Castiel shivers, though he understood. It wasn’t human. To Dean, at the time, it was a monster. It would be the same as killing a bug in his house- it didn’t belong, it needed to go.

“You didn’t kill Lenore,” Sam reminded him.

“No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her, I was gonna kill them all.”

“Dean,” Castiel implored, “you didn’t kill those vampires, because you realized they aren’t monsters. That’s what is important.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed reluctantly. “‘Cuz you two are a pain in my ass.”

Sam grinned, and Castiel smiled softly. “Well then,” Castiel started with a glance to Sam, “I suppose we’ll have to remain with you to be pains in the ass, then. Sam won’t even have to pay me.”

Sam laughed, and the two of them got in the car, forcing Dean to join them, as he was demanding an explanation. Neither of them said anything, and eventually Dean gave up. “Whatever. Ready to go home, Cas?”

 

\---*---

 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Glad we agree,” Castiel said, spinning on his heel and setting the timer on the microwave to cook the object of his conflict with Dean, a bowl of macaroni and cheese.

Dean groaned. “That’s my line! Cas, I’m not eating that.”

“You made it!”

“Yes, but that was yesterday. This is now, and I say we go out for burgers,” Dean protested.

“Go out for burgers, like we do on an almost daily basis? No. Besides, we need to empty my fridge if we’re going to be hunting more than trying to find the Demon,” Castielreasoned.

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault Sam can’t say no to anyone.”

“It is your fault that you can’t say no to him,” Castiel corrected.

Dean huffed. “Fine. But why don’t _you_ eat the macaroni? There’s not enough for both of us.”

“I’m having broccoli. I’d be more than happy to switch.”

Dean made a face just as the microwave beeped. He reached past Castiel’s head to pull it open, accepting his macaroni. “You know what? I’m good.” Sam emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and his eyes crazed. Dean set his macaroni aside. “Sam? Are you okay?”

“I- I just had another vision.”

Castiel straightened. He had, of course, known about the visions, but had never been present to handle one and see it play out. “What happened?”

“There was a man, on the phone, and he walked into a gun shop and was talking to the owner, like they were friends, and he was looking at guns, and then he just- just shot him, and then he shot himself.”

Dean appeared at Castiel’s side in front of Sam. “Where are we going?”

 

\---*---

 

The Roadhouse wasn’t a terribly long drive from Denver, but it took up time that they could have spent doing research on their own. Sam, however, insisted that they needed to notify Ash and see what he could dig up. For once, Castiel got to sit in the front seat, as Sam was napping off his headaches in the back. Castiel expected Dean to mind Castiel putting his boots on the dashboard, but Dean didn’t say a word.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“What other visions has Sam had?”

Dean glanced at him, biting his lip. He seemed to war with himself for a moment before sighing and telling him everything. “Well, he said he dreamed about his girlfriend dying for days before it happened. And then he dreamed about the family who moved into our old house being in trouble, and we went there, and they were. Then there was one about this guy being locked in his car and dying, and we went and his son, Max- Max was telekinetic, he moved stuff with his mind, and he was moving murder weapons. So then we realized that Max’s mom died the exact same way our mom did, and he happens to have powers, like Sam. Then, of course, there was the one in Salvation, and those are the only ones I know about.”

Castiel nodded. “All of his visions had to do with his past with the Demon and other people that are connected to the Demon. Does someone die in every vision?”

Dean nodded. “Sometimes we can change what happens by interfering with what we know is going to happen. Like, if Sam had a vision that someone is murdered because they’re walking alone in the woods, we would try and stop them from going to the woods, and if that didn’t work, we would follow them to the woods. You get what I’m saying?”

“I understand. How are we going to prevent this death?”

Dean shrugged. “Take the gun away.”

Castiel nodded, understanding. “I am confused about why Sam saw the man speak to someone on his cellphone, though. How is that relevant to his death?”

“Who knows, with the Demon. Do you think the Demon filters Sam’s visions, only lets him see what he wants him to see?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “I doubt it. He wouldn’t have shown him his attempt at hurting that family.”

“You're probably right,” Dean sighed. “I wish we knew what the hell was going on at least half the time.”

Castiel snorted. “If only.”

 

\---*---

 

The Roadhouse was filled with hunters, some Castiel recognized, some he did not. Some mistook him for Daniel, which hurt like a knife in the gut every time. Almost no one recognized the Winchesters, though all would likely recognize the name. Castiel spotted Jo in the corner, making money off stupid hunters thinking she couldn’t take a fake shot in an arcade game, as usual. It was the basis of their friendship, that Castiel had had faith in her ability to win the game with a new high score.

Even if he had ended up beating her that first time they played. To be fair, she was seven and he was fourteen, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t bested much older and more experienced hunters than Castiel.

As soon as Jo spotted them, she made a beeline for them. She waved her money at Castiel with a reminiscent smirk. Castiel barely chuckled back. “So, you boys just can’t stay away.”

Dean laughed. “Looks like it. How you doing, Jo?”

Sam interrupted her answer. “Where’s Ash?”

“In his back room.”

“Great,” Sam sped off towards the back of the bar, Dean on his heels with an exasperated sigh. Castiel made to follow them, stopping for a second to give Jo a piece of advice.

“Be careful with some of them. Many would not take to losing well, Jo, especially to a woman.”

“I know what I’m doing, Castiel. But would you be one of their number, perchance? It’s been twelve years since I kicked your ass at that dumb game.”

“I believe you're mixing up your history. It was I who did the ass-kicking, and you who was a less than graceful loser, but I would be happy to play you again. Though I’m not sure if I’d be willing to bet very much.”

“Damn straight.”

Castiel smiled a little, slipping his arm away from Jo’s elbow as he followed Dean to Ash’s room, only to run into them walking away. “He’s putting pants on,” Dean explained with a grimace. Sam just rolled his eyes.

“Ah. Where are we going to talk to him?”

Dean leaned in close. “Actually, Cas, I was kind of hoping you could distract the other hunters, at least some of the closeby ones, so people won’t listen to us.”

Castiel sighed but nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

They chose a mostly unoccupied corner of the bar, which was rare in the Roadhouse. However, once he got to said corner, its reasons for vacancy became apparent. Castiel groaned.

“What?”

But he just muttered, “I hate that guy,” and walked up to him with his cheeriest, fakest smile. “Matthew!”

Matthew grinned in that stupid, superior way that Castiel hated. Come to think of it, there wasn’t much about the man that Castiel didn’t hate.

But he was family.

“Cousin Cassie! Haven’t seen you since forever, when we were teens, I guess, when me and Dad were huntin’ that ghoul with you and Uncle Danny.” No one had ever called his father _Danny_ , and Castiel could always tell he hated it. Likewise, no one ever called him _Cassie,_ and he positively loathed it.

“Yes, I remember,” Castiel sat down across from his cousin, wishing he’d brought a drink.

“Boy, do you remember how scrawny you used to be? I was never like that, could always take you down. Heh, even now, I’m twice the size of you. All muscle, you know, thanks to my workouts. And, of course, hunting doesn’t hurt. But don’t you worry, Cassie, it’s just the way you're built. You couldn’t be as tough as me if you tried.”

Castiel gritted his teeth in a semblance of a smile. “No, I suppose I couldn’t.”

Matthew leaned closer over the table towards Castiel. “‘Course, you being a fag and all can’t be working in your favor.”

Castiel’s mission had been to distract his conceited and offensive cousin, not be polite to him. Castiel considered himself a fairly well-mannered person as well, certainly not the type to start a bar fight. He was teetering very close to the edge, though.

“I guess that’s just another _inferior_ way that I’m built,” he gritted out.

Matthew nodded solemnly. “You ask me, that’s all your dad. No offense to my mother, God rest her soul, but Novaks tend to be weak. I bet you just got extra from _your_ chicken of a mother.”

Castiel knew his mother was a chicken, and the words coming from his insufferable cousin did not bother him. What did bother him, bothered him very much, was the accusation that he was weak, that his _father_ was weak. Castiel remembered the image of Daniel Novak tortured to death, all to protect Castiel, who he had not given up. Castiel thought of his own healing powers, his remarkable ability to heave himself from the clutches of death. Castiel could have thrown a million things at his cousin as proof to the contrary of his statement.

Instead, Castiel stood and threw his fist. Matthew fell backwards, and Dean shot him a concerned glance, but Castiel just waved him back to his business with Ash. Matthew stood, growling, and lunged at Castiel, who dodged him easily and tripped him with a simple sticking out of his leg.

Matthew roared. At this point, the whole bar was just watching, no one making any attempt to break up the fight. Everyone in the bar knew Castiel could more than handle himself against his nimrod of a cousin, but wasn’t the kind of person to attempt to seriously hurt him. Though he was not prone to starting one, he had participated in enough bar fights to prove that he was rather merciful with his opponents.

Castiel vaguely noticed Dean shout his name as he ducked under Matthew’s swinging, beefy arms. He aimed a childish kick at Matthew’s kneecaps, and he went down again. This time, Castiel placed a foot on his cousin’s shoulder and leaned down. “If anyone is weak, it’s you. I suggest you- what’s the phrase?- check yourself before you wreck yourself.”

Castiel stood up straight and approached Ash and the Winchesters. “Are we done?”

Dean was staring at him in bewilderment. “Yeah, Cas, we’re done.”

As they were walking out, Matthew shouted at their backs, “You should watch yourself, Cassie! I’ve got a lot more friends than you do!”

Castiel ignored him. Sam and Dean did as well, but as soon as they were confined in the safety of the Impala, Dean turned to face him. “Cassie?”

“Only to those who wish to be beaten to a pulp.”

“I wasn’t gonna call you that, it’s awful,” Dean clarified. “Who was that guy?”

Castiel glared at him. “Matthew Robinson. My cousin. I hate him.”

“Yeah, we noticed,” Sam chuckled as Dean started the car. “What’d he do to you?”

“It’s more of the fact that he’s an awful person,” Castiel explained. “But he called my father weak. He was anything but.”

Dean nodded at him in the rearview mirror. “Well, he was distracted, at any rate.”

“That he was. What did you learn from Ash?”

 

\---*---

 

Andrew Gallagher was, on the surface, unremarkable. No one special in any sort of way. But, digging a little bit deeper would lead one discover that Andrew seemed to get away with just about anything and everything. He had not paid any bills, but nothing was flagged. He appeared to be completely off the grid, except for a work address a year old. They decided to start there.

They approached a coworker under the guise of lawyers there to grant Andrew fictional inheritance. Another worker told them how Andy could get into anywhere, which Castiel deemed suspicious. The woman working as their waitress directed them towards an inappropriately decorated van.

They found said van parked not far from the restaurant. The second they spotted it through the window of the Impala, Dean grinned at Sam and Castiel. “I’m sorry, but I’m starting to like this guy. That van is _sweet.”_ Dean turned to Sam, who was ignoring him and staring at the van warily. “What’s wrong?”

Sam shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Sam, you look like you're sucking on a lemon, what’s going on?”

“This Andrew Gallagher- he’s the second guy like this we’ve found, Dean. Demon came to them when they were kids, now they’re killing people,” Sam explained.

“Andrew Gallagher is not necessarily guilty,” Castiel argued.

“My visions haven’t been wrong yet!”

“But he wasn’t in your vision.”

“What’s your point, Sam?” Dean interjected.

Sam sighed. “My point is, I’m one of them.”

“No, you're not,” Dean assured his brother.

“Dean, the Demon said he had plans for and the children like me,” Sam reminded them.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, maybe this is his plan, maybe we’re all a bunch of psychic freaks, maybe we’re all supposed to be-”

“What, killers?” Dean guessed.

“Yeah.”

“So the Demon wants you out there, killing with your minds.”

“Seems a rather ineffective way to do much of anything, I mean, I doubt he’s telling them who to kill, and there can’t be a terribly large number of, as you say, ‘psychic freaks,’” Castiel reasoned.

“And besides that, you're not a murderer, Sam! He _can’t_ tell you who to kill, you don’t have it in your bones,” Dean finished.

Sam looked away from them. “No? Last I checked, I kill all kinds of things.”

“Those things were asking for it.”

Castiel smacked Dean in the head. “It’s not the same, Sam. People can be punished, but monsters can’t, they have to be killed.”

Sam did not respond, and they let the subject drop, returning to watching the crudely painted van. A man, Andrew Gallagher, stepped out of the house it was parked in front of. “Got him,” Sam announced. They watched him walk down the street and look up and wave at a scantily dressed woman in a window.

Castiel frowned. “It’s barely noon.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, and she is way out of his league.” They watched further as Andrew stopped a man, talked to him for a moment, and then received his coffee cup. He shook hands with a man in a suit, and Sam sucked in a breath.

“That’s him, that older guy. He’s the shooter.”

Dean nodded. “Well, you and Cas keep on him. I’ll stick with Andy.” Sam exited the car, Castiel following.

He touched Dean’s shoulder lightly. “Be careful.”

Dean grinned. “Always.”

Castiel scrambled after Sam. “You still see him?”

“Yes.” They hurriedly crossed the street, following a good ten yards behind the man. “Is that what he was wearing in your vision?”

“Yes,” Sam hissed.

The man’s phone rang, and he stopped to answer it. Sam hit Castiel in the chest to stop him.

Castiel hit Sam in the side in response. “What?”

“This is the start of my vision, Cas, watch.”

Castiel’s eyes widened, and he turned the man. He glanced at Sam, who jerked his head toward the gun shop across the street. Castiel nodded and they jogged towards it, right in front of a bus. The shop was fairly peaceful. Castiel looked up at the fire alarm, just out of his reach, and Sam pulled it. They exited the shop just in time to see the man walk away from it. Sam sighed in relief.

They faced the street, only to see the Impala, except Dean was not driving it. It was Andrew Gallagher. Castiel frowned. “Sam. That would be your car, correct? The car Dean deemed his child and spent two weeks repairing?”

“Uh. Yeah,” Sam confirmed breathlessly.

“And behind the wheel currently is, in fact, Andrew Gallagher?”

“Yep.”

Sam and Castiel glanced at each other, and Sam very calmly pulled out his phone and dialed his brother. Castiel watched the Impala turn a corner, out of his sight.

“Dean, Andy’s got the Impala!” He shouted, and Castiel jumped. “You what?”

“What did he do?” Castiel whispered.

But Sam had not time to answer, as they turned at the sound of a bus honking, just in time to see the man from Sam’s vision walk directly in front of it.

There wasn’t even time to be shocked. Sam looked like he was going to be sick. Castiel plucked the phone from his hand. “Dean, what did you do?” he asked, his voice shaky but calm.

“It’s not my fault, Cas! He just came and asked for the car and I gave it to him, he’s using mind control!”

“That would make sense,” Castiel decided and hung up the phone. “Sam, are you okay?”

“I- yeah, Cas. Let’s just- do you think we could do anything?” People were creeping forward, towards the body, and police sirens were not far in the distance.

“We should probably stay. The police will have questions.”

Dean arrived shortly afterwards. Sam was sitting against a tree, just staring. Castiel sat next to him, wishing he knew some way to comfort the younger man.

He wondered what kind of person it made him that he was not terribly upset at watching this man die.

He wondered if he would appear tonight in his nightmares. Maybe the reason Castiel did not react to terrible things was that he stored them away to haunt his sleep. During the day, things had to be done.

“We kept him out of the gun store,” Sam said, his voice thick. “I thought he was okay. I thought he was past it. At least… we should’ve stayed with him.”

“I doubt there was much to be done about a bus, and if not a bus then perhaps something else, Sam. You and I are not to blame,” Castiel said softly.

Sam nodded, but he didn’t look like he agreed.

 

\---*---

 

The found the car once more outside Andy’s restaurant. Castiel was grateful for this town being as small as it was, everything being within walking distance. “Oh thank God!” Dean praised, rushing to the car. “I’m sorry Baby, I’ll never leave you again.” Dean inspected the car, horror written on his face. “At least he left the keys in it.”

“Yeah, real Samaritan, this guy,” Sam commented.

“It looks like he can’t work his mojo just by twitching his nose,” Dean explained.

Castiel tilted his head. “Do you mean that literally?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, Cas. He’s got to use verbal commands. Max did it just by concentrating, is what I mean.”

“Oh. I believe the Doctor was on his phone mere seconds prior to… both incidents.”

“Andy must’ve called him or something,” Sam gathered.

Dean looked down. “I don’t know, maybe.”

Sam and Castiel both raised their eyebrows. “Beg your pardon?”

“I just don’t know if he’s our guy, Sam.” Dean was very obviously braced for a fight.

“Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of his white Bronco and you have doubts about _this?”_

“To be fair, he did act rather guilty,” Castiel defended. He wasn’t sure why he was defending Dean, as he disagreed with him.

“He just doesn’t seem like the stone-cold killer type! That’s all. And Cas is right, O.J. was guilty.” Dean pointed his finger at Sam’s chest as he accused O.J.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Either way, how are we going to track this guy down?”

“Well,” Castiel began, “if he drove the Impala here, he must have left his van somewhere.”

Dean winked at him. “Not a problem.”

 

\---*---

 

After having his car taken, Dean had parked Andy’s van. They parked the Impala behind it and approached the back. “Not exactly an inconspicuous ride. Let’s have a look.” Dean pulled out a crowbar while Sam and Castiel scanned for onlookers. He yanked the car open. Dean chuckled as soon as he saw the strange mix of hippie and rocker on the inside of the van. It had reed hangings separating the front of the van from the back, where Andrew appeared to live. There was a miniature disco ball hanging from the ceiling and a Bengal tiger painted on one side of the van. The first part of the back was a bed, littered with books. “Oh, come on,” Dean marveled. “This is- this is amazing. Not exactly a serial killer’s lair, though. There’s no clown paintings on the walls, or scissors stuck in victim’s photos. I like the tiger.”

Sam picked up one of Andrew’s books. “Hegel? Kant? Wittgenstein?”

“Philosophy is not exactly light reading,” Castiel noted.

“Yeah, and, uh-” Dean cleared his throat and extracted a long, curved tube, “Moby Dick’s bong.”

Castiel frowned. “I’m not sure I want to know what that is.”

Dean laughed. “Oh, Cas. So innocent.”

There was clearly nothing to gather from Andrew’s van, so they decided to investigate the doctor and get something to eat.

“What I don’t get is the motive,” Sam commented as he looked at the papers in front of him. “I mean, the doctor was squeaky clean, why would Andy waste him?”

“If it is Andy,” Dean reminded.

“Dude, enough.”

“Why?”

“The doctor was mind-controlled in front of a bus. Andy just happens to have the power of mind control. You do the math.”

“Mind control is not exactly common, Dean.”

“I just don’t think the guy has it in him, that’s all.”

“Well, how the hell would you know? Why are you bending over backwards defending him?” Sam challenged.

“‘Cuz you're not right about this.”

“About Andy?”

Castiel suddenly understood, recalling their earlier conversation about Sam being a murderer. Dean didn’t want Andy to be a killer because it would mean that his little brother wouldn’t have to be a killer. He opened his mouth to say something, when Andy himself slammed on the side of the car.

“Hey! You think I haven’t seen you guys?” He drug out his words. “Why are you following me?” Sam started to feed him the lie they had told the woman at the restaurant, but Andy interrupted. “Tell the truth!”

“He is,” Castiel insisted, but Dean told a different story.

“We hunt demons.”

Sam and Castiel both stared at him incredulously.

“What?” Andy asked in disbelief.

“Demons and spirits,” Dean went on. Castiel hit him in the head, but Dean paid him no mind. “Things your worst nightmares wouldn’t even touch. Sam’s my brother, and that’s Cas, he’s a nerd.”

“Dean, shut up!” Sam commanded.

“I’m trying,” Dean hissed, but continued to talk. “Sam’s psychic, like you, well, not really like you, and Cas is maybe an angel with crazy healing powers and who knows what else but see, they think you're a murderer, and Sam’s afraid he’s gonna become one himself, ‘cause you're all part of something that’s terrible, and I hope to hell that he’s wrong, but I’m starting to get a little scared that he might be right.”

Castiel glared at him. “Are you done spilling all the secrets that I had to beat up my cousin to keep?”

“Yes.”

Andy bent down. “Okay, you know what? Just leave me alone.”

“Okay,” Dean agreed, and started the car. Castiel and Sam got out while Dean struggled with something.

Andy appeared shocked that Sam and Castiel were following him. “What are you doing? Look, I said leave me _alone._ Get out of here!” They continued advancing and Andy continued backing away. “Just start driving, and never stop!”

“Doesn’t seem to work on us, Andy.” Castiel heard Dean get out of the car.

“What?”

“You can make people do things, can’t you? You can tell them what to think.” Sam held out a hand to halt his brother.

“That’s crazy,” Andy insisted.

“All started about a year ago, didn’t it? After you turned 22. Little stuff at first, then you got better at controlling it.” Sam was spinning his own story to Andy, who recognized it.

He put his hands to his temples. “How do you know all this?”

“‘Cause the same thing happened to me, Andy. My mom died in a fire, too. I have abilities, too. You see, we’re connected, you and me.”

Sam’s words were too much for Andy. “Just- just get out of here!”

But Sam pressed on. “Why did you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?”

Andy stopped. “What?”

Sam turned his head, obviously in pain, but he straightened enough to look at Andy. Castiel placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and stepped forward. “Why did you kill him?”

Sam doubled over.

“I didn’t!”

Sam put his head in his hands and groaned, and Dean rushed forward. “Sam? What is it?”

Sam collapsed.

“I didn’t do anything to him,” Andy swore, kneeling next to them.

“We know,” Castiel agreed.

Sam seemed to be recovering from his vision. “A woman. A woman burning alive.”

“Like your mother?” Castiel asked.

“No, she was at a gas station- she’s going to kill herself.”

“What does he mean, ‘going to’?”

“Shut up,” Dean and Castiel commanded.

“She gets triggered by a call on her cell.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. As long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch, he can’t hurt her.” They all stood, Dean supporting Sam. Castiel crossed his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t hurt anybody!” Andy insisted once more.

“Yeah, not yet,” Sam arraigned.

“Except the doctor,” Castiel reminded.

Suddenly, they heard fire alarms. Dean looked at Sam, who ordered him to follow it to see if it was his vision come true. Andy made to follow him, and Sam held out an arm to stop him. “No. Not you. You're staying here with us.”

Andy looked like he was about to argue, but Castiel stared at him threateningly and he fell silent. “We should wait for Dean to report on the situation before interrogating him.”

“What, so now you think he’s innocent, too?”

“If the woman in your vision died in the last five minutes, while we were with him, then yes.” Sam opened his mouth, but Castiel glared him down, too.

“Damn, that guy is scary,” Andy breathed.

Sam glared at him. “He’s not, really. He likes bees.”

Andy rocked on his feet. “So… is he psychic, too? ‘Cuz my- uh- thing didn’t work on him, either.”

“We don’t know. Maybe. He’s not like us, though, and he’s not like normal people either, that’s all we know.”

“Well… what can he do?”

“Every time he should be dead he heals himself. That’s the only thing that we really know for sure is weird about him.”

“Well… what about you?”

Sam barely glanced at Andy, still craning his head to see where the fire trucks had gone or maybe Dean returning. His phone started ringing, and he walked away to accept the call. Castiel continued to keep his eyes glued to Andy, who was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

“Look, do you have to do that?”

“Yes.”

Sam returned to them. “It’s not him, Cas. That was Dean, he said the woman from my vision only died a few minutes ago.”

Castiel sighed. “Naturally.” He glanced at Andy. “I imagine we have a bit of explaining to do.”

 

\---*---

 

Dean arrived while Sam was having a conversation with Andy and Castiel was drawing in the dirt with his foot. “Victim’s name was Holly Beckett, 41, single.” Dean informed them.

“Do you know her, heard of her?” Castiel inquired of Andy.

“No.”

“I called Ash on the way over here, he came up with a little something. Apparently Holly Beckett gave birth when she was 18 years old, back in 1983- same day you were born, Andy.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Andy, were you adopted?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You were? And you just neglected to mention that?”

Castiel looked to Dean and whispered, “Why didn’t we know about this before?” Dean just shrugged.

“Well, it never really came up. I mean, I never knew my birth parents, and, like you said, my adopted mom died when I was a baby- Do you think this Holly woman could actually be my-”

Dean interrupted Andy. “I don’t know. Tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they’re hard copies sealed up in the county offices.”

Andy scoffed. “Well, screw that.”

Castiel smirked, and Sam grinned. “Perks of being a psychic.”

\---*---

 

Andy got over his shock of discovering that he had a murderous twin he considered a friend fairly quickly, in Castiel’s opinion. It would not have gone over well with him, if he was being honest. He was able to fairly calmly explain what he knew about the true culprit on the car ride to confront him.

But then Sam started having another vision. It seemed to hurt more than any previous ones, so Dean stopped the car and he and Castiel rushed out of the car and around to the passenger door. Andy stayed in the back seat.

“Sam? Are you alright?”

Sam groaned. “A woman- a girl- the waitress! The girl from the restaurant!”

Andy popped open his door and also came to crowd Sam. “Tracy?”

“She jumped off a bridge- or a dam.”

Andy gasped and took two steps back. “We have to go. There’s a dam outside town, we have to go.”

Castiel nodded. “Everyone back inside the car, Andy, tell Dean where to go.”

They got back in the car and Sam recovered on the way. Dean opted to stay behind as they confronted the second mind-controller. Andy did not.

Sam tried to protest. “Andy-”

“That’s Tracy out there, and I’m coming.” Though Andy did not attempt to manipulate them, his voice held power nonetheless.

Sam made the protest again, but Castiel beat him. “It will be dangerous. I hope you can prepare yourself.”

Andy nodded, and they began their silent walk to the top of the dam. Luckily, the car parked on the way there was still on, parked. Sam punched through the window and aimed his gun at Webber, Andy’s twin.

“Get out of the car! Now!”

Webber’s voice became slightly distorted, almost eerie. “You _really_ don’t want to do this.”

Sam punched him in the face.

Andy appeared on the other side of the car, extracting Tracy from it. Castiel stood behind Sam, his pistol also at the ready. Sam pulled Webber out of the car in the same instant. Castiel duct taped his mouth shut, and Andy left Tracy in order to attack his brother. Castiel held him back while Sam held Webber down.

None of them were expecting Tracy to attack them, first knocking Castiel away from Andy and then Sam away from Webber, and, of course, Andy was focused on her rather than his brother. He ordered her to stop.

Webber ripped the tape from his mouth.

Castiel sat up, his head pounding, and watched the scene between Andy and Webber unfold.

“How did you do that?”

“Practice, bro. If you just practiced, you would know. Sometimes… you don’t need to use your words. If you have to, all you need is this,” he gestured at his temple. “Sometimes the headache is worth it.”

Andy grabbed his twin by the front of his shirt and shoved him backwards. “You twisted son of a bitch!”

“Back off, Andy! Or Tracy is gonna do a little flying.”

Castiel tried to stand, but Webber punched him in the face before he could and he was out.

Castiel woke to the sound of a gunshot, sitting bolt upright. Sam was stirring on the ground. The gunshot was Andy, the victim his brother.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel sat at the bar of the Roadhouse, resting his chin on his beer. Sam and Dean were playing pool. Ellen stood in front of him. “Honey, how’d you get wrapped up in all this? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we have your help, but wouldn’t you rather be doing something else?”

Castiel sighed. “The Demon had my father killed. And… I have abilities, too.” Ellen leaned back, shocked. “But not like Sam, or Andy. I’m older than all of them, and even though we discovered that the pattern of babies houses burning down was unreliable, I don’t fit it. We also don’t quite know what it is I can do. The Demon made it seem like I was somehow different from Sam.”

“When were you gonna tell me about this?”

“I didn’t even realize there was anything to tell until recently, and I still don’t think it’s anything worth noticing by demons or for you to worry about.” Castiel took a long sip of his beer.

Ellen was silent for a moment. “Are… you gonna tell me what it is?”

Castiel sighed. “Twice in my life I should have died, but I didn’t. When I was sixteen, I was stabbed in the spleen and it hardly fazed me. In the car crash where John died, I was supposed to be brain dead. I don’t understand why anyone would want me. The power does not extend beyond my own well-being. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Ellen rounded around the bar and hugged him tightly. “Well, thank goodness for that, at least.”

 

\---*---

 

Castiel sighed. “Should we really be here, in a public place? You're wanted in several states, Dean.”

“Uh, two. And it’s fine, I’m not _that_ wanted, no one’s gonna pay attention to me. Besides, Cas, we were at your house for _weeks._ We’ve laid low enough.”

Castiel huffed. “I am _not_ going to jail for you. Being in custody was bad enough.”

“Dude, it’s fine.”

Sam was tapping away at his computer. “Dean, you’ve got a warrant in St. Louis, and you're officially in the Fed’s database.”

Dean smirked. “I’m like Dillinger or something.”

Sam and Castiel both glared. “Dean, it’s not funny. It makes the job harder.”

“We now have to be extremely cautious, hence the reason _we shouldn’t be here._ ”

“Well, what do they got on you two?”

Sam looked back down at his computer. “I’m sure they just haven’t posted it in yet,” he grumbled.

Castiel breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“What, no accessory, nothing?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Castiel reprimanded while Sam told his brother to shut up. Castiel made a face at him. “Would you like to be wanted by the police?”

Sam threw his arms in the air. “It’d just be cooler!”

Dean and Castiel looked at each other and Dean winked. Sam pouted at them. “All right, what do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?”

Sam shut his laptop, glaring, and lifted Castiel’s plate to unearth the papers he had printed out. He began to read aloud. “‘Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home- a condominium he designed.”

“Build a high rise, then jump off the top of it, that’s classy,” Dean commented.

Castiel frowned. “Perhaps he was just unhappy with it, or some other work he’d made. Suicide is not uncommon, Sam.”

“No, I know, but two days before, he had called animal control, reporting black dogs, ‘vicious, wild, black dogs.’ The authorities couldn’t find it, and no one else saw it. In fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up, and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn’t show up for work, two days later he takes the swan dive.”

Castiel sighed. “That does sound rather suspicious. But is it an actual black dog? This isn’t their usual method of operations. They usually tend to be just an omen, not an actual cause of death itself.”

“Well, yeah, but some of the lore says they’re actual animal spirits. Maybe the omen is a cause of death, because people see them and think they’re going crazy so they kill themselves,” Sam defended.

Castiel nodded. “I see. Then I suppose we should still investigate.”

Dean had taken the papers from Sam and was looking at a drawing of what people had supposedly seen the black dogs to look like. “Bet they could hump the crap out of your leg, look at this one.” Sam glared at him. Castiel just narrowed his eyes at the picture. “What, they could!”

 

\---*---

 

Castiel returned to the motel room before the Winchesters did, and he used the time to see if he could find anything on the black dogs himself. They did, however, return shortly.

“Hey, Cas. Find anything out at the animal place?” Dean preceded Sam in the door.

Castiel held up a single piece of paper. “There have been nineteen total calls about big black dogs. Also, the receptionist wrote something down on a piece of paper, but I don’t know what it is.”

Dean picked up the sticky note and inspected it. “What the hell is this?”

“I was hoping you would know.”

Sam plucked the paper from Dean’s hand and chuckled. “Dude, it’s her MySpace address.”

Castiel tilted his head, frowning, and Dean looked just as confused. “What is ‘MySpace’?”

“Is that like some sort of porn site?” Dean questioned. Sam continued to laugh.

“You two are so socially inept it’s _hilarious._ ” Sam retreated into the bathroom, still chuckling. Dean and Castiel traded confused looks, and Dean took the computer from Castiel and opened a new tab, typing in the word Sam had said. After a good thirty minutes trying to navigate the site, Dean closed the tab.

“Whatever. Who needs that, honestly. Sam! Get your ass out here, I’m sure your makeup looks fine, we got people to see!”

Sam poked his head of the bathroom and gave them what Dean had explained to Castiel was called a ‘bitchface.’ “I was reading.”

“Sure you were, princess. C’mon.”

 

\---*---

 

The first few people who had called were just panicked about some dog that was totally harmless and totally visible to the hunters. On their seventh try, they approached a large, white, Greek style home with a garden that Castiel was only slightly jealous of. He wished he could have a garden, but it was simply not meant to be. Dean muttered something under his breath before knocking on the door, and it was answered by a short woman with black hair. Dean cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, ma’am.” He showed her his fake badge. “Uh, animal control.”

The woman frowned, shaking her head. “Oh, someone already came yesterday.”

“Oh, we’re just following up,” Sam lied quickly. “We’re looking for Dr. Sylvia Perlman.”

The woman smiled a little and invited them in. They followed her to the kitchen. “The doctor, well, she- I don’t know exactly when she’ll be back. She left two days ago.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. And you are?”

“I’m Miss Perlman’s maid.”

“So where did the doctor go?” Dean questioned, looking at the pictures on the fridge.

“I don’t know. She just packed and went, she didn’t say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?”

“Not yet, but we’re working on it. Ma’am, did you happen to see the dog yourself?” Castiel wondered.

“Well… no. I never even heard it.” Sam and Castiel traded a knowing look. “I was almost starting to think the doctor was imagining things, but she’s not like that, so…”

Castiel interrupted. “Would you mind if I used your bathroom?”

The maid nodded him and gave him directions to the toilet, but Castiel didn’t pay attention. Instead, he found the doctor’s room and inspected it, doing the same to most other rooms he could get through before being gone a suspicious amount of time. He found nothing whatsoever, and he returned to the Winchesters just as they were leaving. They thanked the maid and said their goodbyes, but as soon as they got in the car, Dean turned to Castiel. “Find anything?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, we did. So, when we talked to the architect guy, he told us that Boyden used to be a crap architect, and he was a bartender at a place called Lloyd’s. Then, ten years ago, he started designing really cool stuff. Compared it to Van Gogh. And when we went in there, we found out that the doctor is chief surgeon, but she’s young, only 42, 43, but then ten years ago she got really, really good. I even found a picture of her, with friends, at Lloyd’s bar, boom.” Dean started the car and smirked at Castiel in the rearview mirror.

Castiel sighed. “Another bar.”

 

\---*---

 

Lloyd’s bar sat by a crossroads, which never meant good things. As they were walking towards it, Dean stopped them, looking at the flowers that grew at every corner of the crossroad. “Hey, you think someone planted these?”

“In the middle of all these weeds?” Sam asked skeptically, approaching a patch of them.

Dean squatted down by the yellow flowers. “Cas, you're the plant nerd, what are these things? I feel like I recognize them.”

Castiel squatted by Dean, their knees brushing. “ _Achillea millefolium,_ commonly known as yarrow flowers. They are weeds in some places, including places where they’re native, so it wouldn’t be unusual for them to be growing here. It is, however, very unusual they they’re growing in a uniform fashion in just these four places.”

Dean turned his head and stared at him. “That was, like, a textbook answer, man, what the hell.”

Castiel ignored him. “They are also used for summoning, particularly verbal spells.”

Dean stood, extending a hand to help Castiel up. “Yeah, that’s right. So, two people become sudden successes about 10 years ago… right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd’s.”

“Which sits by a crossroad,” Castiel added.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “You think?”

“One way to find out.” Dean walked to the center of the crossroad and confirmed with the others that it was, in fact, the center. “Okay. Sam, go get a shovel.”

Castiel sighed. “Demon deals. You don’t suppose this has anything to do with the Demon?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, or else Sam woulda had a vision, right?”

“Right.” Dean was quiet, just watching his brother.

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you stick around?”

Castiel tilted his head at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… we’re kind of a mess. And I bet you’d be a lot better at tracking down the Demon without us and our constant distractions.”

Castiel looked away from Dean, up at the sky. “There’s strength in numbers. Besides, I appreciate you and your distractions. I’m certain I’d find myself going insane if left alone with nothing to do but research the Demon. Or worse yet, I might give up on it entirely and just… go back to New York. You and Sam… you're all I have.”

Dean rested his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Cas…”

But he didn’t say anything else, and when Sam returned, he drew his hand away. “Alright, Dean, you dig, I’m crippled.” Sam waved his broken wrist in the air. Castiel rolled his eyes.

They didn’t have far to go until Dean struck metal. “Yahtzee.” Dean withdrew a small, rusted metal box and opened it. He pulled out what Castiel would assume was a black cat’s bone, and Sam a jar of what he guess was graveyard dirt. “This is serious spellwork. I mean, that’s deep south hoodoo stuff.”

“Used to summon a demon.” Sam concluded.

“Not only is it used to summon one, but also to make deals with them. Crossroads-”

“Are where pacts are made.” Dean finished for Castiel. “‘Cause that always ends good.” They all stood.

“The dogs the victims are seeing must be hellhounds. Demonic tax collectors.” Castiel sighed, recovering the box with gravel. They could not fight hellhounds, could not stop the deaths. Dean kicked Castiel’s foot away and picked up the box.

“Whoever this demon is, it’s back, and it’s collecting. And that doctor lady, wherever she’s running… she ain’t running fast enough.” Dean predicted.

Castiel looked to the sky. “She can’t outrun her choices, and we can’t save her from them.”

Dean sighed. “Come on. Guess there’s no point in checking out the bar, we already know what we need to know.”

They leaned against the Impala. “So it’s just like the Robert Johnson legend, ‘sell your soul at the crossroad’ kind of deal.” Sam  summed up.

“Yeah, except that wasn’t a legend, you know his music.” Sam shook his head. “Cas?”

Castiel nodded. “My grandfather was fond of it. Sam, in his music he makes many references to the Occult.”

“Yeah, I mean, ‘Crossroad Blues’, ‘Me and the Devil Blues,’ ‘Hellhound on  My Trail.’” Sam showed no recognition. Dean rolled his eyes. “Anyway, story goes that he died choking on his blood. He was hallucinating and muttering about big, evil dogs.”

“After a very successful 10-year career.” Castiel added.

Sam shook his head. “You two are freaks. But the point is it’s happening again, here.”

“Yeah.”

“We got to find out if anyone else struck any bargains around here,” Sam stated.

Castiel frowned. “Why?”

Sam tilted his head and shifted his feet around. “What do you mean, ‘why?’”

Dean defended Castiel’s position. “Well do we have to clean up these people’s messes for them? I mean, they’re not exactly squeaky-clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced them to play _Let’s Make a Deal._ ”

“So, what, we should just leave them to die?”

“Sam, there’s nothing we can do. There is no way to stop a hellhound, not permanently, and like Dean said, they chose this.”

“But… we have to try, right?”

Dean and Castiel looked at each other for a long moment. Castiel sighed, looking down. Dean turned back to Sam. “Alright… fine.” Sam seemed surprised. “Rituals like this, you gotta put your own photo into the mix, right?” Dean held up a faded, bent picture of a black man. “So this guy probably summoned the thing. Let’s see if anyone inside knows him… if he’s still alive.” Dean walked into the bar. Sam and Castiel did not follow.

Sam shook his head. “Why are you doing this, if you think it’s pointless?”

Castiel shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose if that was the reason others turned away, then no one has ever really tried to find a solution. I’d enjoy being proven wrong, Sam.”

Sam smiled at him. “You know Dean’s just doing this because of you, right?”

“And you, Sam. There’s not much he wouldn’t do if you asked.”

“I know. But it’s the same for you. The difference is, I bet you’d do anything he asked, too.” Castiel did not respond, just looked at his shoes with a soft smile on his face.

 

\---*---

 

George Darrow’s door was lined with a peculiar dust. The hunters all crouched to gather some on their fingers. “What is that, pepper?”

Dean had no sooner asked than the door was opening. It was the man from the picture, 10 years older. “Who the hell are you?”

“George Darrow?”

“I’m not buying anything.”

Dean stopped him from closing thedoor. “Woah, woah, looks like you went for the wrong shaker, there.”

Castiel inspected the substance on his fingers. “Dean, I don’t think it’s pepper.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pepper smells different. I’m not sure what this is.”

“Cas, you're ruining my cool line.”

“Your cool line is ruined because it’s wrong, this isn’t pepper.”

“Okay, well it still isn’t going to help, you use salt to keep the evil things out.”

“You don’t know that this won’t work, you don’t even know what it is.”

“Neither do you!”

George’s eyes followed their conversation like ping pong balls. Sam was just shaking his head. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

Dean returned to the point. “We’re talking about this.” He held up the photo from the crossroad box. “Tell me… you seen that hellhound yet?”

George looked like he was about to shut the door on them, but Sam continued in a soft voice. “Look, we want to help. Please, just five minutes.”

“Okay, but I don’t want to hear these two yellin at each other again.”

Dean put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “We do not yell at each other, it is friendly argument.”

“Whatever it is, it’s annoying.”

Sam smirked at them and followed George inside. Dean just beamed at Castiel and went in as well.

The apartment was rather downtrodden, the floors dusty and the wood splintery. There were paintings hung across every wall, and strange bottles and candles stacked on shelves.

George was pouring himself a glass of whiskey while Dean and Castiel inspected the paintings on the walls. Sam was looking at everything else. “So, what is that stuff out front?”

“Goofer dust.”

“I told you it wasn’t pepper.”

“Shut up, Cas.”

True to fashion, Sam ignored them. “What’s-”

George interrupted him. “What, you boys think you know something about something, but not goofer dust?” He scoffed, and when he turned around, Dean made a face at his back. Castiel snorted lightly. Sam glared at them.

George threw a brown bag at them, and Dean caught it. “Well, we know a little about a lot of things… just enough to make us dangerous.” Castiel rolled his eyes. Sam ignored him some more.

“What is it?”

“Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons.” George’s voice was low, and he sounded very annoyed with them (probably just Dean).

“Hah. Demons, we know.” Dean bragged.

“Well, then, keep it. Maybe it’ll do you some good.” George crossed to the chair on the other side of the room. “Four minutes left.”

Sam looked at Dean and Castiel, still inspecting the goofer dust, and addressed George. “Mr. Darrow… we know you're in trouble.”

“Yeah, that you got yourself into.” Dean commented. Castiel stepped on his foot. While correct, there was no need for him to be rude.

Sam went on. “But it’s not hopeless, alright? There’s got to be something we can do.”

“Listen,” George said, sitting down, “I get that you boys want to help, but sometimes a person makes their bed and they just got to lie down in it.” The hunters betrayed no emotion at the statement. “I’m the one that called that demon in the first place.”

“Why?” Castiel asked. It was not apparent to him, as the apartment betrayed no possible benefits of life.

“I was weak!” George exclaimed. “I mean, who don’t want to be great? Who don’t want their life to mean something? I just… I just never thought about the price.”

“Was it worth it?” Dean wondered. Castiel guessed that he, too, did not see how he gained anything worth dying for.

“Hell no. Course, I asked for talent. Should have gone for _fame._ I’m still broke… and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don’t nobody want.” The paintings were rather dark, in Castiel’s opinion, but he could tell Dean liked them. “But that wasn’t the worst.” George didn’t finish, and Sam had to prompt him. “Demon didn’t leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done, the damn thing stayed at Lloyd’s for a week, just chatting, making more deals. I tried to warn folks, but who gonna listen to an old drunk?”

Castiel looked down. He understood the old man’s guilt at dragging others down with him. After all, wasn’t that the very thing he’d done to his father?

“How many others are there?” Sam demanded.

“Uh, this architect, a doctor lady. I kept up with them, they been in the papers.” He sighed. “At least they got famous.”

“Who else, George, come on, think.” Dean prompted. His voice was soft. Castiel wondered what he was thinking, if they were similar thoughts to Castiel’s. John’s death was becoming clearer to Castiel, surrounded by people who could have anything they wanted and then died for it. And Sam had said that John was going to summon the Demon. And then Dean got better.

“Oh, one more. Uh, nice guy, too. Hudson- Evan, I think. I don’t know what he asked for. Don’t matter now! We done for,” he said miserably.

Sam shook his head. “No. No, there’s got to be a way.”

“Look, you don’t get it! I don’t want a way.” George put his whiskey down and just stared into space.

Sam was still calm as a rock. “Look you don’t-”

But George was having none of it. He stood, shouting, “Look, I called that thing! I brought it on myself! I brought it on them.” He sat back down. “I’m going to hell one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I’m done. I’m just trying to hold him off till then, buy a little time.” Castiel glanced around at the paintings again, this time in mourning. They truly were beautiful, in a dark, terrifying way. George sighed. “Okay, boys, time you went. Go help somebody that wants help.”

Sam still protested. “We can’t just-”

“Get out!” George ordered. “I got work to do.”

“You don’t really want to die,” Sam pleaded.

George turned to face him. “I don’t? I’m- I’m tired.”

At that point, even Sam seemed to accept that George Darrow was a lost cause, because they left without another word. As soon as they were out the door, Dean turned to Castiel. “Hey, maybe after he dies we should get one of his paintings, put it up in your house. Despite your lovely bee, it still looks bare.”

Castiel shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. You do have a room, after all. You should really be asking Sam.” Dean did, and Sam just looked over his shoulder and winked. Castiel rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like it was a big deal. He’d never even _see_ it.

 

\---*---

  
Evan Hudson slammed the door on them as soon as Dean mentioned Lloyd’s ten years ago.

Sam turned to his brother, his lips pursed. “Any other bright ideas?”

Dean grinned at Castiel, waggling his eyebrows childishly, and then kicked the door open. Castiel rolled his eyes. Sam muttered something that could have either been ‘showoff’ or ‘fuck off’. Either was likely. They followed the sound of running and crashing upstairs and to another door that Dean tried to kick down. Sam stopped him. The knob turned easily, and Castiel snorted at Dean, who stuck his tongue out at him.

The room, an office, appeared to be empty. Suddenly, he popped out from behind a wall, making all three hunters jump. “Please! Don’t hurt me.”

Sam raised his arms, a gesture of peace. “We’re not gonna hurt you, we’re here to help you.”

“Sorry about your front door,” Castiel added.

“We know all about the genius deal you made,” Dean said, with a tad more condescending than was strictly necessary.

Evan appeared to be slightly at ease. “What? How?”

“Doesn’t matter. All that matters is we’re trying to stop it.” Sam explained.

“How do I know you're not lying?”

“If we were lying, you’d be dead. Demons tend to be very direct about things like this.” Castiel deadpanned.

Evan nodded and began pacing. “C-can you stop it?”

“Don’t know. We’ll try.”

“I’m sure that’s very comforting, Sam,” Castiel whispered sarcastically.

Even put his face in his hands. “I don’t want to die.”

“Of course you don’t, not now.” Dean’s voice was, at this point, very condescending. Castiel stamped on his foot. “Ouch! Jesus, Cas.” But he did not get Castiel’s message. “What’d you ask for, anyway, Ev, huh? Never need Viagra, bowl a perfect game, what?” Evan was glaring at him with hate. Castiel had no idea why. It wasn’t like Dean was mocking him on his deathbed or anything.

“My wife.” Castiel furrowed his brow and Dean chuckled.

“Right, getting the girl, that’s worth a trip to hell for.” Castiel stepped on his foot again. The man was still on his deathbed.

“Dean stop,” Sam pleaded, but Evan turned.

“No, he’s right. I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm. That, uh, woman, or whatever she was, at the bar, she said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but…” Evan sighed. “I don’t know, I was desperate.”

“Desperate?” Sam questioned.

Evan sighed again. “Julie was dying.” Castiel stepped on Dean’s foot again, for being a jerk when he didn’t even understand the whole story.

Dean glared at Castiel. “You did it to save her?”

Evan took a shuddering breath. “She had cancer, they had stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice. They kept saying, ‘matter of days.’ So, yeah, I made the deal, and I’d do it again. I’d have died for her on the spot.”

Castiel couldn’t help but think that that was the deal John Winchester had made. Dean clearly thought so, too. “Did you ever think about her in all of this?”

“I did this for her!”

“You sure about that?” Dean took a few steps forward, and Castiel let him. “I think that you did it for yourself… so you wouldn’t have to live without her. But, guess what, she’s gonna have to live without _you_ now. What if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she’d feel?”

Evan did not answer, and Sam stepped forward. “Okay, that’s enough. Evan, sit tight, alright? We’re gonna figure this out.” Sam dragged Dean out of the room, snagging Castiel on the way. Dean’s face was dark and brooding. He walked a little bit ahead of them. “You alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Dean turned to face them, his face still full of pain. “Hey, I got an idea. You throw George’s hoodoo at that hellhound, keep it away from Evan for as long as you can. I’m gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and he and Sam both started yelling at Dean at the same time. It was mostly along the lines of ‘are you crazy?’

Dean held up his hands. “Alright, alright, woah, chill. I’m gonna trap it, and I’m gonna exorcise it, which’ll buy us time to figure out something more permanent.”

“Yeah, but how much time?” Sam asked skeptically.

“I don’t know. Awhile. It’s not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine.”

Sam shook his head. “No. No way.”

“Not allowed to say no, Sammy, unless you got a better idea.” Dean reminded him. Sam scoffed and turned to Castiel.

“Cas? C’mon, anything.” Both Winchesters looked at him expectantly.

Castiel sighed. “I can’t-.”

Sam was still not budging. “No. I am not letting you summon that demon.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like where your head's at right now, that’s why not.”

“What are you talking about?”

Castiel stepped forward. “Dean, you’ve been upset since we discovered the crossroad, and it’s not hard to think of why.”

Dean pushed past this. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Dad.” Sam accused. Dean stopped in his tracks. “You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh?” Dean turned, his face blank. “Hell, I’ve been thinking it. Cas has been thinking it. I’m sure you’ve been thinking it, too.”

Dean was silent, for a moment. “It fits, doesn’t it? I’m alive, Dad’s dead, Yellow-Eyed Demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul.”

Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Evan. “Hey, guys, I think I hear it! It’s outside.”

Dean sighed. “Just keep him alive, okay?” He turned down the hall and walked away. Sam looked at Castiel and nodded after his brother. Castiel followed Dean. “Cas, you can’t stop me.”

“I had no intentions of doing so. I’m going with you.”

“You should stay and help Sam.”

“Sam is more than capable.”  
“What, and I’m not?”

Castiel glared at him. “No, you just have a tendency for rash behavior.”

Dean rolled his eyes but made no further protest. They rode in silence until about halfway to the crossroads.

“Dean?”

“What?”

“If your father did make a deal-”

“Cas-”

“Let me finish. If he did make a deal, like you’ve said before, no one made him. It was his decision, and he made it because he loved you.” Castiel felt like Dean needed to hear that. Beyond that, Castiel needed to say it.

“What about Sam? And fighting the Demon?”

Castiel sighed. “I’m sure Sam is thankful that you are alive, Dean. He will not blame you for his father’s death, and I’m sure he thought you were more than capable of fighting the Demon.”

Dean huffed, scanning the scenery outside his window. “It was still a damn selfish thing to do.”

“I doubt you would be saying that if it were Sam in your place. And do not pretend that you would not have done the same thing, Dean, for either of your family members.”

Dean was silent for a long time. Then, just as he was parking the car, he looked over at Castiel. “You're right. And, just for the record, I would do it for you, too.”

Castiel nodded at him and got out. “What are we going to do?”

Dean surveyed the landscape. “Put a Devil’s trap under the car, and on the ceiling of that thing over there. We’ll try and lure it into the car first, and if that doesn’t work, we run under that. Hopefully it’ll follow.”

Castiel nodded and followed Dean to the trunk, where he had stored George’s box. Dean pulled out that, a box of fake ID’s, and a can of spray paint. “You know what they look like?”

“I’ve been able to draw them with my eyes closed since I was 8.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m holding you to that. I’ll do the box and stuff.”

Castiel nodded and began painting a Devil’s trap just behind the Impala. Dean sat on the trunk, ripping up a fake ID and putting it in the box. Then he began to look over the exorcism. By the time Castiel had finished the second trap, Dean had the pronunciation down to a point. They buried the box at the crossroad, Castiel shivering in the chilly night air.

“Alright,” Dean announced, brushing dust off his hands. “Now we wait.”

They didn’t have to wait long. “So, what brings a couple of guys like you to a place like this?”

The hunted whorled around. The demon didn’t look like much, just a woman, but she had an air of smug confidence about her that marked her as a threat.

Neither of them answered. For once, Dean couldn’t think of a witty line. The Demon flicked her head to the side. “You called me?”

“I’m just glad it worked,” Dean admitted. The demon hadn’t looked at Castiel, and he realized that it was a good thing, because she might recognize him. He shuffled a bit behind Dean.

“First time?”

“You could say that.”

“Oh, come on now. Don’t sell yourself short. Your friend here gives you away. He’s Hell’s most wanted.” Dean turned to Castiel, his eyes widening. He mouthed _oh shit,_ and placed himself directly between the demon and Castiel. The demon laughed. “Besides, I also know all about you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean was unfazed. “So you know who we are.”

“I get the newsletter.”

“Are we the only ones that don’t get the newsletter?” Castiel muttered. He was beginning to wonder if it was an actual thing they were missing out on. Maybe they didn’t get the newsletter because they were the stars of every issue.

Dean ignored him. “Well, don’t keep us in suspense. What have you heard?”

“Well, I heard you were handsome. That’s you, too, Castiel, I see you blushing.” Castiel was _not_ blushing. “I heard about your broken halo, too, what a shame. We’ll have to fix that.”

Castiel frowned. “Broken halo?”

The demon laughed. “What can I do for you, boys?”

“Maybe we should do this in my car.” Dean suggested. “Nice and private.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The demon lead the way while Dean and Castiel followed. They let her get several paces ahead before Castiel leaned up to Dean’s ear and whispered, “Are you flirting with a demon?” Dean elbowed him in the ribs and they continued walking, Dean catching up with the Demon while Castiel stayed a few steps behind. He was, after all, Hell’s most wanted.

“So I was hoping we could strike a deal,” Dean started. Castiel froze. Not the plan. Not the plan _at all._

“That’s what I do.”

“I want Evan Hudson released from his contract.” Dean bargained. NOT THE PLAN.

“So sorry, darling, that’s not negotiable.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Dean promised.

The demon whipped her head to Castiel. “Hmm. I suppose he’s your bargaining chip? He’s the only worthwhile thing you have.”

Dean glanced at Castiel briefly. “That’s right.” His words were confident, but he was hesitant in saying them.

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Dean?”

The demon smiled. “Well, well, well. You’d sacrifice your best friend’s life for someone you don’t even know?”

“Only if he’s willing. Cas?” Dean met Castiel’s eyes over the demons head, and in them Castiel saw a need for understanding.

Castiel sighed. “Yes.” He supposed he would do it even if Dean was being serious. Which Castiel sincerely hoped he wasn’t.

“Oh, Dean. I can’t believe you’d throw him away without even trying to get me to take you. I guess the apple does fall far from the tree.”

Dean swallowed. “Well, that’s just ‘cuz I know how much Cas is worth. I mean, no one would even look at me with him standing right there. Can’t believe I didn’t think of that when I brought him.” Castiel wasn’t sure what to feel at the moment, really. Flattered? Worried? Angry? Confused?

“Oh, Dean, don’t think so low of yourself. I mean, two Winchesters are better than one. You did know about your dad’s deal, right? His life for yours? It’d be a powerful thing, having both of you. And you’ve just served Castiel up on a silver platter as well, this is almost too good to be true. Too righteous for your own good, hunters.”

Dean’s jaw was working. He opened the car door. “After you.” Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. Back to the plan.

“Such a gentleman.” She looked down, and then back up at Dean in disgust. “A Devil’s trap?” Still part of the plan. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You stupid, stupid…” She slammed the car door and advanced towards Dean. Castiel backed away in the same direction, though he was still a few feet away from Dean. “I should rip you limb from limb,” the demon threatened.

“Take your best shot,” Dean countered. Castiel smacked his shoulder.

The demon stopped. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not gonna put you out of your misery.”

“Yeah, why not?” Castiel glared at him.

“‘Cause your misery is the whole point. It’s too much fun to watch. Knowing how your daddy died for you, how he sold his soul.” Dean was clearly trying not to react, and if Castiel knew anything about him, he knew it wouldn’t work. He reached out, pressing two fingers against his arm. “I mean, that’s gotta hurt.” The demon edged forward, forcing Dean against the pillar of the structure Castiel had painted the second Devil’s trap in. “He’s all you ever think about.” The demon’s red eyes flicked from Dean’s face to his arm, where Castiel was still touching him. “Most of the time.” She grinned like she knew something. “You wake up, and your first thought is, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ You're all lit up with pain. I mean, you loved him so much. And it’s all your fault.” The demon was edging ever closer to Dean, and Castiel shuffled towards him enough to close his hand around Dean’s arm. The demon went on. “You blew it, Dean. I could have given you what you need.”

“What do I need?” Dean’s voice was barely controlled rage and pain. Castiel squeezed a little tighter.

“Your father. I could have brought him back. Your loss. But I will be taking Castiel.” The demon moved so fast, Castiel didn’t even have time to react. She yanked him towards him and threw an arm around his neck, despite him being taller than her. She walked backwards awkwardly. Dean’s eyes widened in panic as he realized there was nothing he could do. “Ooh, I’d love to see you that much worse off without your precious Cas. Unfortunately, I’ve got a reward to collect. Oh, and if you move a muscle, I’ll snap his neck.”

“Let him go!” Dean roared. Castiel was seeing spots.

The demon laughed. “Or what? Poor Dean. You could’ve gained everything, but instead you lost it all again.” Castiel sank to his knees, his eyelids drooping. He hadn’t even registered the fact that she was cutting off his air. He hoped he wouldn’t die.

Who was he kidding.

Dean moved backwards underneath the Devil’s trap. “Hold on, wait, please. Just- I’ll make that deal. Please.”

The demon smirked and let Castiel go, shoving him towards Dean. He took a huge breath. Dean caught him. The demon sauntered forward, not quite trapped yet. “You're lucky I’ve got a soft spot for lost puppies and long faces. I just can’t leave you like this. Besides, you didn’t call me here to bargain for Evan. Not really.”

“Can you bring him back, my dad?” Dean asked.

“Dean, no.” Castiel whispered.

“Of course I can, just as he was. Your dad will live a long, natural life, like he was meant to. That’s a promise. I also promise I won’t take Castiel. Souls are worth more to me than little boys who might be something.”

“What about Dean?” Castiel demanded.

She tilted her head. “I can grant Dean 10 years. 10 long, good years with his father, and his brother, and you, Castiel. That’s a lifetime. The family could be together again, Dean, the Winchester boys all reunited. Maybe Castiel could even become one.” Dean looked away from Castiel. Castiel wasn’t quite sure what the demon meant. She stepped right into Dean, right on the edge of the trap. Castiel hid a smile in Dean’s shoulder. “Look, your dad is supposed to be alive. You're supposed to be dead. So we’ll just set things straight, put things back in their natural order, and you get 10 extra years on top. That’s a bonus.”

Dean walked away from her, Castiel taking several steps back as well. “You think you could… throw in a set of steak knives?” Castiel tilted his head in confusion.

The demon laughed, and walked forward again, dead center of the pentagram. She kept going, though. “You know, this smartass self-defense mechanism of yours…” She stopped suddenly, right underneath the edge of the pentagram. Castiel smirked. “Dean…”

“Now you're really trapped,” Dean informed her, glancing at Castiel in victory for only a second. “That’s got to hurt.”

“Let me out now.” The demon ordered.

“Hmm, Cas, what do you think?”

“Well, of course we should let her out, if she does what we want.”

“See, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Aw, power couple of the year,” the demon snarked.

“We wanna make a little deal. You call off your hellhound and let Evan go. Then we’ll let you go.” Dean offered.

“I can’t break a binding contract,” the demon persisted.

“Hmm. And by ‘can’t’, you mean ‘don’t want to’? Last chance. Evan and his wife get to live to a ripe old age. Going… going...”

“Let’s talk about this.”

Dean shrugged. “Okay, I’ll sweeten it up for you. You let Evan go, and we let you go without Cas beating the living daylight out of you.”

Castiel frowned. “Why am I beating the daylights out of her?”

“Because she almost suffocated you.”

“That’s fair.”

“You gonna take it?” The demon said nothing. “Okay, gone. Cas?”

Castiel hesitated. “I don’t want to.”

“What do you mean, you don’t want to.”

“I don’t like attacking people who aren’t presently a threat to me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Do you know any excruciating exorcisms off the top of your head?”

“Well, the most excruciating won’t send her very far, but the most powerful one isn’t especially painful. Of course, it’s painful, but not exactly excruciating.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Nerd. Go with power, then, not pain.”

“Okay.” Castiel closed his eyes and began to chant in Latin. He could hear the demon’s heavy breathing, and he was nearing the end of the exorcism when she called out.

“Wait! I’ll do it, I’ll release him, just don’t send me back.” The demon pleaded.

Dean nodded. “How do we seal this?” The demon smirked and beckoned him forward with a finger. Dean stepped forward cautiously. As soon as he was in range, the demon grabbed him and kissed him hungrily. Castiel had to look away. The sight made his face hot and his stomach ball up in knots. “What the hell was that for?” Castiel still wouldn’t look. He was afraid Dean would see his face and know.

Something.

“Sealing the deal.”

“I usually like to be warned before I’m violated with demon tongue.”

Castiel looked back up. The demon looked extremely annoyed. “Evan Hudson is free. He and his wife will live long lives.”

“How do I know you're not lying.” Castiel didn’t bother to tell him that crossroads demons couldn’t lie, not about their deals, anyway.

“My word is my bond.”

“Oh, really?” Castiel would reassure him later.

“It is when I make a deal. It’s the rules. You got what you wanted. Now let me go.” The demon demanded.

Dean looked at Castiel thoughtfully. “Cas, exorcise her.”

Castiel hesitated, and the demon scoffed. “You're gonna double-cross me? Funny how I’m the trustworthy one.” Dean looked at Castiel expectantly. He still hesitated. “You know, you two renege, send me to Hell, sooner or later I’m gonna climb out, and skinning Evan Hudson will be the first thing I do.”

Dean huffed. “Alright, Cas, you win.” He swung up to reach the ceiling and broke one of the boards loose. The demon walked out.

Castiel sighed. He wasn’t one to go back on promises. The demon smirked. “I got to tell you, you would have never pulled that stunt if you knew.”

“Knew what?”

Castiel shook his head. “Dean, I doubt you want to know.”

Dean frowned at him. “What? What don’t I know?”

The demon smiled. “Well, if you’d done your research like Castiel here, you’d know where your dad is. You should have made that deal. You see, people talk about Hell, but it’s just a word. Doesn’t even come close to describing the real thing.”

“Shut your mouth, bitch,” Dean commanded.

“If you could see your poor daddy, hear the sounds he makes because he can’t even scream-”

Castiel began his exorcism again, but he didn’t get three words in before the demon threw back its head and opened its mouth to expel a pillar of black smoke into the sky. It left behind just a girl, lost and confused.

Dean and Castiel traded solemn glances before Castiel knelt next to the girl and asked her questions, like what her name was and the year. They got her to her sister, who was elated to see her after 12 years. Dean and Castiel pretended to know nothing.

“You were going to do it,” Castiel accused on the way to Sam.

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

Dean sighed. “I considered it. You wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t say that.” Castiel was quiet for a minute. “Why didn’t you?”

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, pointedly not looking at him. “Something to live for.” Castiel did not ask what. Dean quickly changed the subject. “So, Hell’s most wanted? Sam’s gonna be so jealous.”

\---*---

 

Castiel never woke screaming from his nightmares. Sweating, yes, heavy breathing, yes, but never screaming.

When he did scream, Dean was at his door not three seconds later. “Cas! Are you okay?”

“I- yes, Dean. Just- a nightmare.”

“Jesus, what the hell was it about?”

“I don’t remember,” Castiel lied.

He told himself he didn’t remember, in the hopes that it would become true. He doubted it would. Nightmares like that don’t just go away.

“Okay. Well… do you need anything? I could stay with you, if you want,” Dean offered.

Castiel smiled softly. “Thank you, Dean, but I’m fine. You can go back to bed.”

Dean hesitated only a moment before leaving the room. Castiel flopped back onto his pillow, silent tears streaming down his face.

How would he face Sam in the morning?

 

\---*---

 

The nightmare didn’t stop. Every night, it was the same. There were no cases, no new horrors to replace Castiel’s recurring dream.

Dean knew something was wrong, somehow. Castiel would only barely interact with Sam.

He couldn’t bring himself to look the younger Winchester in the eye.

 

\---*---

 

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. “This is the fifth time in a row. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”

Castiel said nothing, just stared at the ceiling.

Dean left. In the morning, they acted like nothing happened.

Somehow, Sam never heard him. Castiel dreaded what would happen if he did.

 

\---*--

 

Dean was sitting on his bed, fully clad in pajamas, arms crossed across his chest. “I’m staying in here tonight.” The bags under his eyes were as bad as Castiel’s.

He sighed. “Fine. But it won’t stop.”

“We’ll see.” Castiel turned the light off, and they fell asleep, just barely touching.

 

\---*---

 

_Sam was sitting at Castiel’s kitchen table. His head was bent. Castiel sat across from him. Sam was messing with something. It looked like he was stitching._

_“Sam,” Castiel called out. “What are you doing?”_

_Sam looked up, his eyes closed. He grinned, and all his teeth were metal fangs, slotting together perfectly like they were meant to be there. Castiel just tilted his head. “I’m making them_ **_burn._ ** _” Sam held up a quilt, made of human body parts, fat and tendons and hair. Each quilt was a person, and the first four squares were burning. At the bottom of the squares, Castiel was able to make out the names_ Mary Winchester, Daniel Novak, Jessica Moore _, and_ John Wincheste _r. The next two squares were labeled_ Dean Winchester _and_ Castiel Novak. _Castiel looked back up at Sam, who was still smiling his deadly smile._

_“Sam… why?”_

_Sam laughed and opened his eyes, but they weren’t Sam’s eyes. They were yellow, and familiar. “Because he wants me to! You’ll do what he wants, too, Castiel. It’s too late!” Sam stood and gestured behind him, at the thousands upon thousands of bodies laid out across a white background. The few closest to Sam were Dean, Ellen, Jo, Ash, and Bobby, all their eyes and mouths stitched shut. Castiel watched the entire quilt start to burn, and then he saw himself burn. He began to scream, the pain the agony-_

 

\---*---

 

“Cas!”

Castiel sat up, rubbing his eyes. Not real. Not real.

Dean turned on the light. “Cas, are you gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Castiel buried his face in his hands to hide the tears falling from his eyes. It had to stop. It had to stop. “It has to stop, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know. What is it?”

“A nightmare,” Castiel responded, as he had done every night for the past six.

“Cas-”

“A nightmare where I’m sitting at the table with Sam. He’s doing something. It looks like stitching.” Castiel explains the entire dream to Dean with his hands still on his face. As he finished his retelling, Dean guides his hands away from his face gently by the wrists, holding them in the space between the two men.

“Hey. Cas. Look at me.”

Cas does. Dean’s eyes were dry and unwavering and so _green._ He takes a deep breath.

“Cas, listen, Sam doesn’t even know how to stitch. This whole thing is based on him stitching, and that’s just not gonna happen.”

Castiel smiled, a little watery. “I don’t know why I’m having this nightmare. Sam would never-”

“I know. And you know. It’s just- maybe it’s the Demon, getting in your head. Cas, you're gonna be okay. We’re all gonna be okay.” Dean promised. Castiel must have looked skeptical, because Dean dragged him forward by his wrists and hugged him tightly. Castiel almost didn’t hug him back, but in that moment he felt more comforted and loved than he had in his whole life.

Dean pulled away. “Hey. Tomorrow, I want you to look Sam right in the eye. You’ll see. They’re hazel. And he’s too much of a pansy to be a bad guy.”

 

\---*---

 

Castiel looked Sam straight in the eye. Hazel. “Sam, could you grab the milk?”

“Sure, Cas.”

 

\---*---

 

Castiel’s nightmares returned to normal. No more screaming. Sam Winchester was his friend, not an object of his horrors.

 

\---*---

 

Sam’s vision was of Dean. Not Dean’s death, but Dean bringing death upon another person. Sam explained how the man had insisted ‘it’, whatever it was, wasn’t in him, but how Dean shot him anyway. Dean had tried to protest, saying he would never, but Sam silenced him with a glare. Sam did research on something he’d seen that could lead them to where the vision had taken place. Dean and Castiel went into the hallway outside the brothers’ room.

“Why do I feel like these visions are getting a heck of a lot more common?” Dean wondered.

“Perhaps, at this point, we’re just waiting for them to happen,” Castiel suggested. He and Dean were leaning against opposite walls, the tips of their toes pressing together. It was a weird and slightly childish position.

“Yeah… I just hope that he stops taking them so hard, you know? It’s gotta suck, having those nasty headaches all the time.”

Castiel nodded. “I suppose we should pack.”

“Right. He’ll have an address in no time.”

“Got it!” Sam called out. “We’re going to Oregon, probably!”

Dean smirked at Castiel. “Not a fan of the probably, but let’s rock ‘n’ roll!”

Castiel rolled his eyes and twisted the doorknob behind him, falling into his room. Dean laughed all the way down the hall.

  
\---*---

 

They arrived in Rivergrove, Oregon the next morning. They were parked on a street where many people were milling about, watching. Everyone seemed to be going about their usual business, and Castiel didn’t see anything worth looking into.

Sam pointed at a man cleaning his fishing rods. “He was there.”

They all got out of the car, approaching the man casually. “Morning,” Dean greeted.

The man looked up, giving them a once over. “Morning. Can I help you?”

“Yeah. Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard, Joseph Hill,” Dean introduced, pulling out his fake badge. Castiel barely remembered to do the same. “U.S. Marshals.”

The man put down his fishing rod. “What’s this about?”

“We’re looking for someone,” Dean explained.

“A young man, uh, early twenties,” Sam described. “He’d have a- a thin scar, right below his hairline.”

The man before them seemed to hesitate. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” Castiel assured him. “Nothing that we know of, at any rate. We believe he can help us find somebody else.”

“Yeah, he’s not in any kind of trouble or anything. Not yet.” Castiel shot Dean a glare. The man said nothing. “I think maybe you know who he is, Master Sergeant.” Castiel frowned. How could Dean possibly know that? “My dad was in the corps, he was a corporal.” Castiel still did not understand, but didn’t let it show.

“What company?” The man questioned.

“Echo-2-1.” Dean was smiling slightly, and Castiel felt he was telling the truth. He wasn’t surprised. If he’d ever met a military man, it was John Winchester.

“So can you help us?” Sam pleaded.

The sergeant only hesitated a moment. “Duane Tanner’s got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean.”

“Oh, I’m sure he he does,” Dean agreed unsarcastically. “Uh. Do you know where he lives?”

“With his family, up Aspen way,” the sergeant pointed past Dean.

“Thank you.”

The hunters turned away, back to the Impala. Castiel nipped Dean’s heels. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

“That he was a sergeant?”

Dean grinned. “Are you telling me I know something you don’t know?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You know lots of things I don’t know, Dean. Answer the question.”

Dean chuckled. “His tattoo, it shows his rank.”

“Oh. I see.” Castiel froze the image of the tattoo in his mind and filed it away. Sam was looking at a telephone pole.

“Hey, when you two are done flirting, come check this out.”

Dean and Castiel turned to inspect what Sam was staring at. “Croatoan?” They said in unison.

Sam furrowed his brow, looking between the two of them. “Yeah.” Dean looked confused, but Castiel leaned in to study it further, pushing his glasses up his nose. He had taken a lot of flack from Dean that morning when he put them on, but he was tired of the blurriness. The letters were identical to the records of the original inscription. “Roanoke, lost colony. Ring a bell?” Sam prompted his brother. Dean said nothing. “Dean, did you pay any attention to history class?”

Dean made a ‘pff’ noise. “Yeah. The shot heard around the world, how bills become laws.”

“That’s not school, that’s Schoolhouse Rock!”

Dean shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Roanoke,” Castiel said in annoyance, “was one of the first colonies the English settled in America in the sixteenth century.”

“Oh, yeah, I do remember that,” Dean admitted. “The only thing they left behind was a single word carved into a tree.”

“Croatoan,” Castiel agreed, still studying the carving. It was _exact._

“Yeah, and I mean, there were theories- Indian raid, disease- but nobody knows what really happened,” Sam explained.

“The whole village seemed to just disappear overnight,” Castiel concluded.

Dean said aloud what they were all thinking. “You don’t think that’s what’s happening here, do you?”

“This carving-” Castiel straightened, “I’ve seen pictures of the original, the tree is still there, and these letters are identical.”

Sam nodded at him. “Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn’t good.” Sam studied the carving for a moment. “But what do you think could do that?”

Castiel could think of nothing.

Dean sighed dramatically. “Well, I mean, like I said, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so…”

“We should get help,” Sam suggested. “Bobby. Ellen, maybe.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Dean agreed. He pulled out his phone and started to dial, but it became apparent very soon that they would get no help. “I don’t have a signal.”

Sam and Castiel both reached into their pockets, and Sam quickly came up with the same verdict. Dean had to lean in very close to Castiel to determine that he, too, would be calling for no help. They tried the payphone nearby, but had no better luck. Dean dropped it, letting it just hang. “I’ll tell you one thing- if I was gonna massacre a town, that’d be my first step.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m sure the townspeople have already noticed, I doubt there’s anything we can do about it.”

“Yeah. Let’s just go to this guy’s house, alright?”

Dean whirled on his heel back to the car, Sam and Castiel following. They drove the short way in a thoughtful silence.

The house sat on a large plot of land, and it was easy to distinguish from the others because it was the only one that was was ‘up’ the street, as the sergeant had directed. There was a gazebo in the front yard, and everything was lush and green.

They knocked on the door, but the young man who opened the door did not match Sam’s description of the boy Dean would shoot. Dean held up his badge. “Hi, we’re looking for Duane Tanner. He lives here, right?”

The boy nodded. “He’s my brother.”

“Can we talk to him?”

“He’s not here right now.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Do you know where he is?”

The boy was bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet. “Yeah, he went on a fishing trip up by Roslyn lake.”

“Your parents home?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, they’re inside.”

As if on cue, a man’s voice called from inside. “Jake, who is it?” An older man came to the door. Dean introduced them again and explained their purpose. “W-why, he’s not in trouble, is he?”

“No, no, no, we just need to ask him a couple routine questions, that’s all,” Dean assured the man.

“When’s he due back from his trip?” Sam asked.

“I’m not sure,” admitted the man, Duane’s father.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. His mind whispered, _liar._ “Perhaps your wife knows,” he suggested.

“No, I don’t know, she’s not here right now,” the man countered quickly. _Liar._

“I believe your son told us she was,” Castiel stated. The man glared at his son, who claimed ignorance.

“She’s getting groceries,” the man lied, then abruptly changed the subject. “So, when Duane gets back, there’s a number where he can get a hold of you?”

Castiel took a couple steps backs, observing all the windows. There was nothing obvious in any of them. Dean promised the Tanners they would be back later, and they walked away. As soon as the door closed, Dean addressed Sam and Castiel. “That was kind of creepy, right? Little too _Stepford?_ ”

“Big-time,” Sam agreed.

“That man was a liar,” Castiel informed them. “Perhaps we should sneak in.”

“Cas, you read my mind.” Dean said, winking. They circled around to the back of the giant house to look in other windows. The first one they peeked in showed them the horror story that was the kitchen. A blonde woman was tied to a chair, the Tanner matriarch, Castiel assumed. Her son was whispering something in her ear. As the hunters watched, the father pulled out a kitchen knife and sliced his son’s arm with it. They just let the blood fall onto the woman.

The three hunters scrambled to the nearest door and readied their guns. Dean kicked the door open, and they charged in. The men started screaming. Dean shot the father three times in the chest, but the son leaped out the window and ran away, out of their sight. They did not bother following. He appeared to be much faster than any of them, and he was the one that knew the terrain, not them. Castiel cursed. Dean turned away, back to Mrs. Tanner, and untied her. She cried and threw herself into Dean’s arms. He comforted her as best he could. Sam went to the father and gathered up his body. Castiel led the way back out to the car. The large plot of land seemed much less appealing now than it did before. Sam sat with the mother in the front seat, (Castiel never got to sit in the front seat, even though there was probably enough room for all three of them,) while Dean and Castiel loaded the father’s body into the large trunk. Mrs. Tanner asked them to take her to the doctor, and Dean obliged. They drove in silence, grave on the men’s part, stunned on the woman’s. When they arrived at the clinic, Sam assisted Mrs. Tanner while Dean and Castiel attempted to smuggle a dead body inside with minimal passerby noticing. They failed miserably, but luckily, no one stopped them. A doctor was standing in the waiting room when they stumbled inside.

“Is that-”

“Mr. Tanner?” Dean guessed.

“Was… he attacked, too?”

“Uh, no, actually, he did the attacking, and then he got himself shot,” Dean explained sassily.

“Shot?”

“Yeah.”

“And who are you?”

“U.S. Marshals, ma’am. I would prove it to you, but Mr. Tanner was not exactly on a strict diet,” Castiel justified.

The doctor’s voice was distant. Castiel guessed that in such a small town, everyone knew everyone else. “Oh, sorry. Bring him back here.”

Dean and Castiel shuffled behind the doctor into a room with a bed and a sheet, and then they heard Beverly Tanner’s story of her son and her husband beating her and trying to kill her. Dean pulled his brother and Castiel out of the room after she explained everything. “Those guys were whacked out of their gourds,” he started.

“What do you think, multiple demons, mass possession?” Sam suggested.

Castiel shook his head. “That wouldn’t fit with your vision, and there was no smoke. Besides, Mr. Tanner is dead.”

Dean sighed. “Well, something turned him into a monster. And you know, if either one of you had taken out the other one, there would be one less to worry about.”

“I couldn’t get there in time,” Castiel defended.

“I’m sorry I hesitated, Dean, it was a kid,” Sam said spitefully.

“No, it was an it. Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam.”

“Dean,” Castiel warned.

Sam narrowed his eyes, but the doctor came in just at that moment. “How’s the patient?”

“Terrible. What the hell happened out there?”

“We don’t know,” Dean answered truthfully.

“Yeah? Well you just killed my next door neighbor,” the doctor accused. Dean made a ‘yikes’ face, briefly.

“We didn’t have a choice,” he insisted.

“Maybe so, but we need the county sheriff. I need the coroner-”

“The phones are down,” Sam interrupted.

“I know, I tried,” the doctor continued. “Tell me you’ve got a police radio in the car.”

“Yeah, we do, but it crapped out just like everything else.” Castiel had had to stop Sam from throwing it out a window.

“I don’t understand what is happening!” The doctor exclaimed.

“How far is it to the next town?” Dean wondered. Castiel wondered if they would be allowed to leave.

“It’s about 40 miles down to Sidewinder.”

“Okay, Cas, you go down there and see if you can find some help. Me and Sam’ll stick around to keep you guys safe.” Dean started to pull Castiel out by the elbow, presumably to give him a long talk about car safety, but the doctor stopped them.

“Safe from what?”

Dean and Castiel turned and exchanged glances. “We’ll get back to you on that,” he answered. They stepped outside. Dean stood in front of Castiel, staring him down. He held up the keys to the Impala. “If anything bad happens to her, I will never forgive you.”

“I know.”

“I mean it, Cas.”

“I know.”

Dean moved back towards the door. “Hey, Cas-”

Castiel smiled. “I know.” The edge of Dean’s lip curved up slightly, and he went back inside.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel suspected he would be back sooner than he had previously thought. At the very edge of town there was a stalled car in the middle of the road. Castiel rounded around to the driver’s side, and only then could he see the blood and the bullet holes. The bloody baby car seat. Castiel’s hand flew to his mouth. The thought of that child’s fate was unbearable. He felt his face heat up, and he made no attempt to stop himself from crying.

The car was empty, all the windows broken. Laying in the shattered glass at Castiel’s feet was a wood-handled knife. He picked it up. He had a feeling he did not want to meet the owner of this knife. He sighed, pocketed the knife, and got back in Dean’s car and kept driving.

The next obstacle he met was a group of men, holding rifles, standing in front of three cars parked in such a way that, conveniently, no one could enter or exit the town except via helicopter. Jake Tanner was among their number. Castiel was getting ready to _turn the fuck around_ when someone slammed on the roof of the car. “Sorry, road’s closed.”

“Yes, you’ve painted a very clear picture,” Castiel agreed carefully. “May I ask why?”

“Quarantine.”

“Quarantine? Where is the disease, what is it?”

“Don’t know. Something going around out there.”

Castiel huffed. Clearly he was not getting answers out of this robotic buffoon. If he thought about it, this man and all the other men blocking the road were most likely victims of the disease said quarantine was for.

Castiel knew they wouldn’t be allowed to leave. “I was hoping I could get away before I contracted the disease.”

The man chuckled. “Say, why don’t you get out of the car and we’ll talk a little?” He was smirking in a suggestive way that made Castiel’s skin crawl.

He did the only thing he could think of. He screamed “STRANGER DANGER!” at the top of his lungs and drove backwards as fast as he could, spinning the car around and switching the car in into drive all in a few short seconds. The other men were yelling and shooting at him, but Castiel did not stop driving. He blew past the first car and into the city limits, never slowing down, except for when he heard a gunshot directly in front of him. He slammed on the brakes.

The sergeant stood in front of him, holding yet another rifle. It seemed to be the weapon of choice in the northwest. The sergeant ordered him out of the car, and Castiel complied. He hoped to God this man was still himself. “I’m not one of them,” he swore, holding his hands in the air. “Are you?”

“No.”

Castiel hesitated. “How do I know you're not lying?”

“How do I know _you're_ not lying?”

Castiel sighed. “I suppose we’ll just have to trust each other. I don’t know what’s going on, except the phones are down, there are armed _sexual predators_ out there that won’t let us leave the area, and I believe there is some sort of disease going around.”

The sergeant did not lower his rifle. “That’s an awful lot of information you got there.”

“I wouldn’t be telling you anything if I was a psychotic rage machine.”

He lowered his gun slightly. “My neighbor, Mr. Rogers-”

Castiel frowned. “You have a neighbor named Mr. Rogers?” Dean had found a disc of that TV show and forced Castiel to watch it with him on Sam’s laptop not one week ago.

“Not anymore.”

Castiel winced. “My apologies.”

The sergeant gave him a funny look. “No, dude, he came at me with a hatchet, I put him down. He’s not the only one. It’s happening to everyone.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Castiel grumbled. “There are still a few people left, at the doctor’s office. You should come with me.”

The sergeant shook his head. “No fucking way, man, I’m getting the hell out.”

Castiel sighed and shook his head at the sky. “I’ve already told you, you can’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “I’m trying to help you. You can have it willingly or unwillingly.”

The sergeant looked at him for a long while but eventually lowered his rifle and exchanged it for a pistol. He got in the passenger side, aiming it at Castiel. His eyes flicked down to Castiel’s own pistol. “You aren’t gonna use that?”

“I usually find that people are less likely to shoot you if you aren’t trying to shoot them. Unless they happen to be evil, and you happen to be against that.”

The sergeant snorted, but put his pistol down.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel rapped on the door of the clinic. “Dean?”

Dean opened the door almost immediately. “Cas, are you okay, what did they say?”

“I’m fine Dean, but I never made it to the town. There are baby-killing-” just saying it made Castiel want to cry again- “psychotic sexual predators out there.”

Dean looked at him like he was crazy. “O...kay? What about him?”

“I do not believe he is one of them. He killed his hatchet wielding neighbor named Mr. Rogers.”

Dean didn’t quite smile, but his mouth did twitch and he snorted a little. “How’d you get him to come? Not smart to follow around random strangers, man.”

The sergeant shrugged. “This guy’s too crazy to be crazy.”

Dean did smile at that. “Damn right he is. Could we have a word? Doc’s inside. Cas, let’s get you caught up on the the crazy. Mrs. Tanner, currently locked in a makeshift panic room, got the virus because she came into contact with infected blood, and the doc found traces of sulfur in their blood. Sam thinks it’s demonic germ warfare, also that we’re in the middle of a biblical plague, caused by a demon of plague and pestilence, named Croatoan. Pam is very concerned about her boyfriend. That’s pretty much it. You?”

“They blocked the bridge and they killed a baby,” Castiel deadpanned.

“I know, Cas. But you're alright?”

“Fine, Dean.”

“And my Baby?”

Castiel handed over the keys. “Fine.”

“Hey, guys?” The sergeant called. He was standing by Sam. Dean and Castiel joined them. “We got to take of this lady. We can’t just leave her in there. My neighbors- they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger _she’ll_ get.”

Dean loaded his pistol. Castiel frowned, biting his lip, but followed the brothers anyway.

The nurse was outraged. “You're gonna _kill_ Beverly Tanner?”

“Doctor, could there be any treatment?” Sam pleaded. “Some kind of cure for this?”

The doctor hesitated. “Can you?” Castiel prompted.

“For God’s sake, I don’t even know what ‘it’ is!”

“Told you, it’s a matter of time before she breaks through,” the sergeant warned.

Everyone started arguing at once. Castiel hated it. He had never hated an environment more than he hated this one, trapped like mice in a town where anyone could be a killer, even if they weren’t infected with a demon virus. While everyone was arguing their different points, Castiel slipped out the door and wandered the halls of the clinic until he found an empty room. It was stacked with supplies and medical books, and Castiel cozied himself in the corner, knees drawn to his chest. He heard gunshots, and he buried his face in his thighs.

When did his life become so many shades of grey? He didn’t know if that woman deserved to die. He didn’t know if any of the deaths _he_ caused deserved to happen. They always passed it off by saying there was no choice, but there was always a choice. The problem was that no one ever worked to achieve the better option.

Castiel hadn’t even realized he had been crying until he noticed how heavy his eyes were with puffiness. He sniffled. Surely, if they were all going to die, no one would begrudge him a bit of sleep…

 

\---*---

 

“Cas! Cas!” Dean’s voice jarred Castiel awake.

“What?” Dean was standing in the doorway, light spilling in behind him. He crossed the room and crouched in front of Castiel.

“Cas, thank God, I thought you’d gone looking for something and then, I don’t know, went outside, but _thank God._ You gotta go.”

“What happened?”

Dean sighed. “Duane showed up, I didn’t kill him, he’s not infected, but Pam was and she… she infected Sam.” Castiel sat up and opened his mouth to say something, but Dean held up a hand. “We made a ton of explosives, enough to take them all out.” Dean pressed the keys to the Imapla into Castiel’s hands, closing his fingers around them. “Take my car, take these guys to your place or the Roadhouse or wherever, they can help you.”

“Help me with what?” Castiel felt like crying all over again. What was wrong with him today?

“Someone’s still gonna have to kill the Demon, Cas, but you can’t do it alone, and I imagine these guys’ll want some revenge for their town. You can do this.”

“Dean, what about you?”

Dean looked away from Castiel. “I can’t, Cas. I can’t leave my brother.”

“Your brother won’t thank you for that, and neither will anyone else.”

“I know, and I don’t care.”

“I can’t let you-”

“Too bad you're not my boss.”

“I’m serious, Dean.”

“So am I.”

Castiel took a deep breath, closed his eyes. “Why?”

“I don’t want to live without my brother.”

Castiel’s eyes flew open. “I don’t want to live without _you.”_

Dean smiled a little and before Castiel could even register what was happening, Dean grabbed his face and kissed him, long and sweet. He stood quickly. “The others are already in the car.”

And then he was gone. Castiel touched his lips, almost stunned and then tightened his grip on the keys to the Impala, following Dean out the door. He stopped in front of the room where the Winchester brothers intended to die. He did not look at Dean. “Goodbye, Sam.”

“Bye, Cas. Good luck.”

Castiel nodded but did not bother to wish the same upon him. He walked out of the clinic. The doctor, the sergeant, and a boy he assumed was Duane were just standing there, looking bewildered. “What?”

“They’re all just… gone.”

Castiel frowned. “Is there any point in leaving, then? If there’s no… whatever they are, besides- besides Sam, I don’t believe we’re in any danger.”

The other seemed to think this was reasonable, so they all stormed back inside. “They’re gone!” Castiel announced.

The brother stood and emerged from the locked room. “Gone?” They asked together.

“The… things, they’re all gone, _vanished,_ just like Roanoak,” Castiel explained. “We’re not going anywhere.” He tossed Dean his keys and crossed his arms over his chest. The Winchesters seemed flabbergasted but made no protests as the four of them settled in and waited.

Finally, Dean stammered, “Wh- what about Sam?”

Castiel shrugged. “I have a feeling Sam will be as immune to this as he is to other demon-related things.”

Dean just nodded, shocked and sat down across the room from Castiel, which was lucky, because had he sat close to Castiel, Castiel would have had to make the awkward move across the room.

He didn’t want to talk about it, and he really hoped Dean didn’t want to talk about it, either.

Castiel was too afraid of what it meant. Sure, it could mean that Dean felt the same way about Castiel as Castiel did about him, but it could also mean nothing at all, and he did not want to find out.

They all sat in silence for hours, but Sam did nothing. They even all eventually piled into the lab, and the doctor ran a test. There was nothing. Sam was clean. Castiel had been right.

 

\---*---

 

In the morning, Duane and the sarge packed their things and decided to go south, forget all about this whole thing, despite what they had lost. The doctor was staying in order for authorities to investigate the town.

As for Sam, Dean, and Castiel, they were going to hit the road again. Sam was infection-free. Dean had still not brought the kiss up, and Castiel was beginning to relax.

After everyone was gone, Castiel sighed. “This has been the worst.”

Dean snorted. “You can say that again.”

“This has been-”

“Just a saying, Cas. Alright, let’s bounce, this place is gonna make me lose sleep.  
“How will you survive?” Castiel asked sarcastically.

“Seriously, man. I mean, why here, why now? Where the hell did everybody go? It’s not like they freaking melted.”

“Why was I immune?” Sam added.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Obviously for the same reason you were immune to Andy’s mind control. But I do want to know why here and why now. For that matter, why Roanoke, why then? Where _did_ they all go? If I would have to guess, I would guess Hell. It would make sense that they contract this demon disease and then become demons themselves.”

The Winchesters stared at him. Sam shook his head. “Damn, Cas, how do you _know_ this?”

“I don’t, I’m guessing.” They got in the car. “I could be completely wrong.”

“When have you ever been, Cas?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I’m going back to sleep, since I was so _rudely_ interrupted the last time.”

Deans snorted. “Yeah, whatever.”

 

\---*---

 

It was a good thing Castiel was such a big sleeping advocate. Sam secretly thought that a moving car was the one place he didn’t get nightmares, so he liked to log a lot of sleep in there, which was good because as much as Sam loved the guy, he didn’t need to be a part of this conversation with his brother. The older hunter was still asleep in the car when Dean pulled over to enjoy the view for lunch.

“So,” Sam started, “last night-”

“I kissed Cas,” Dean interrupted. Sam choked on his beer.

“You- you what?”

“I’m not saying it twice.”

“...And?”

“And what?”

“And are you guys like a thing now or-”

Dean rolled his eyes. “God, Sam, no.”

“Dean,” he said reproachfully. “It’s Cas.”  
“Yeah, thanks, I know. But… but after, when he came to say goodbye? He didn’t even look at me. And then, the rest of the night, he didn’t even speak to me. He’s probably disgusted with me because- just- forget I even told you, and then we can all forget it ever happened.” Dean took a long sip of his beer. Sam stared into the bottom of his. He wouldn’t let his brother get away with this. Not to Cas. Sam wasn’t an idiot. He saw how they looked at each other, seen how different Dean was with Cas since day 1. It was cheesy, but it was true.

“Dean… I think you should talk to him.”

“Sam-”

“I’m serious! You might be wrong, but you’ll never know until you ask.” Dean did not respond. Sam sighed. “But what about all that other stuff you were saying last night, what the hell was that?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? I mean, you said you were tired of the job, and life, and that it wasn’t just because of Dad.” Sam reminded him, though Dean never really forgot, the prick.

“You can forget that, too, Sammy.”

“I’m not forgetting anything that’s happened in the last 48 hours, no way.”

“Look, man, I thought we were all gonna die, you can’t hold that over me, same for the thing with Cas.”

Sam scoffed. “No, no, no, no, you can’t pull that crap with me, man. First of all, I know how you feel about Cas, it’s painfully obvious. Even Bobby called it, and he saw the two of you together for a week when you were barely talking to anyone. And second of all, you don’t get to say stuff like that and then not talk about it.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then, I guess I’ll just have to keep asking you till you do,” Sam threatened like the annoying little brother he was.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, man. I just think maybe we ought to… go to the Grand Canyon.”

“What?” Sam was confused. The Grand Canyon had nothing to do with anything they were talking about.

“Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across the country- do you know I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J. or Hollywood, but I think Cas would like the Grand Canyon the most he’d be so excited about rocks and shit.”

Sam remembered that sentence for a later date. “You're not making any sense.”

Dean finally got to his point. “I just think we should take a break from all this. You know, even at Cas’, everywhere we turn there’s some reminder of the Demon or some other supernatural monster we need to take care of. Why do we get stuck with all the responsibility? Why can’t we live life a little bit?”

Sam was excited about the prospect of a vacation, he had to admit. But he was still confused. “Why are you saying all of this?” Dean started to turn away, taking a sip of his beer. “No, no, no, no, no, Dean, you're my brother, alright? So, whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit. Let Cas help, let _somebody_ help you.”

Dean seemed to consider it for a moment, but then, “I can’t. I promised.”

“Who?”

“Dad.”

Sam was taken about. Dean said… Dean said that their father hadn’t said anything to him. “What are you talking about?”

“Right before Dad died,” Dean confessed, looking down, “he told me something. He told me something about you.”

Sam didn’t know what to think. How could his brother keep such a secret from him? “What? Dean, what did he tell you?”

Dean looked up slowly. “He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, take care of you.”

Sam shook his head. “He told you that a million times.”

“Well, this time was different. He said that I had to… save you.”

“Save me from what?”

“He just said that I had to save you and nothing else mattered and that if I couldn’t, I’d…”

“You’d what, Dean?” Sam’s heart was pounding. What did he need to be saved from?

“I’d have to kill you.” Sam froze, for a second. “He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy.”

“Kill me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sam could feel his eyes filling with tears. He wanted to throw something, rip something in half. “I mean, he must have had some reason for saying it, I mean, did he know the Demon’s plan for me? Am I supposed to go dark side or something? I mean, what about Cas, the Demon had plans for him, too! What else did he say, Dean?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing, that’s it, I swear. I really don’t think he cared all that much about Cas, Sammy.”

“Well, we care about Cas! God, Dean, how could you not have told me this?”

“Because it was Dad, and he _begged_  me not to.”

“Who cares! Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had _no right_ to keep this from me!”

“You think I wanted this? Huh? I wish to God he’d never opened his mouth. Then I wouldn’t have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day!”

Sam walked away from him. He was fuming. Why would he have to be killed? Why did he have to be saved? Did his father have no faith in him saving himself? “We each gotta figure out what’s going on, then, what the hell all this means.”

“We do? I’ve been thinking about this, I think we should just lay low, you know. At least for a while- it would be safer. Then that way I can make sure…”

“What? That I don’t turn evil? That I don’t turn into some kind of killer?”

“I never said that.”

“Jeez, you're not careful, you will have to waste me one day, Dean,” Sam promised.

“I never said that! Dammit, Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control. Alright, you're immune to some weirdo demon virus, Cas is some sort of superhuman, and I don’t even know what the hell anymore.” Sam took a long swig of his beer. Nobody knew what the hell anymore. “And you're pissed at me, and I get it, that’s fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?”

“Forget it.” Sam was just going to finish his beer, and then he was going to hit the road, maybe stay at Cas’ for a few nights until they caught up with him, and then he would go again. He wondered if maybe he could talk Cas into coming with him. Normally, the thought was laughable, but maybe he didn’t want to have to talk to Dean about it any more than Dean wanted to talk to him.

Then again, maybe that would be a good way to torture Dean.

“Sam, please, man. Hey, please. Just give me some time. Give me some time to think, okay, I’m begging you here. Please, please.”

Whatever. He’d leave tonight, when Dean was asleep. Cas wouldn’t stop him.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel didn’t stop him. He was not in charge of Sam, even if Dean would be unfathomably angry with him. It was Sam’s life, and, frankly, after hearing the whole story from Sam, he was a little mad at Dean as well. Or maybe he was just justifying avoiding the man.

Castiel hadn’t even thought about how thankful he was for Sam as a buffer. He feared it would be unbearably awkward with Sam gone and Dean angry with Castiel because of it.

And for other reasons.

Dean woke up in the morning and Castiel was still sitting in the chair he’d taken up when he’d gone to bed, but significantly closer to the end of his book. “Good morning, Dean.”

Castiel was very pointedly _not_ looking at Dean while he was stretching. “Morning, Cas. I would tell you you should’ve slept last night, but you're practically nocturnal so what’s the point. Where’s Sam?”

“Gone,” Castiel answered breezily.

Dean was out of bed in a flash. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“I mean he told me he was packing a bag because he knew what _his_ next move was, and I could come with him if I wanted, but not to follow him and tell you where he was. I told him I was fine here with my book and he said okay. He also told me everything that happened while I was asleep yesterday and that he’s sorry you're going to be pissed at me but he can’t look at, and I quote, ‘his lying face anymore.’ No, I don’t know where he is and no, I don’t know where he’s going, but I do know that he took all the toothpaste, 20 dollars from your wallet, a box of granola bars I didn’t even know we had, and a veritable arsenal. I also know he stole a car, and that he’s fine because he’s an adult who survived four years at college all on his own and may I remind you that you were hunting on your own at his age, and Sam is a lot bigger than you.” Castiel said all this without looking up from his book, but he did now. Dean was still standing by his bed.

“I’m going after him.”

“Of course you are.”

“Are you coming, or not?”

Castiel shut his book. “That depends. Are you mad at me?”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “No. But you owe me 20 dollars and toothpaste.”

“Why? Sam’s the one that took it.”

“He owes me that too.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and began packing his things.

 

\---*---

 

They drove around aimlessly for a few days after that, checking places Sam would be likely to go after running away. All of them were busts. Castiel was reading his book for the third time.

On the second day, they sitting at a booth in a coffee shop, Castiel still reading, glasses on his nose. He was wearing them with increasing frequency recently. He liked how the world looked with them on.

Dean was drumming his fingers on the table, looking jittery and impatient. It was all Castiel expected from him with is brother missing. Castiel, however, had complete faith in Sam’s ability to take care of himself. He was a little worried, as it was never bright to hunt alone, but for the most part he was just waiting for him to come back. Things between Dean and Castiel had always been easy, natural, but lately it was awkward and tense.

Castiel had a pretty good idea as to why.

Dean sighed and laid his hand flat on the table. Castiel eyed it subtly. How easy would it be to just- “Cas.”

“Mmm.”

“Can we talk?”

Castiel flipped a page. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know what you want to talk about, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean huffed. “Sam thinks we should talk about it.”

“Sam also thinks it’s a good idea to take all the toothpaste but zero toothbrushes and granola bars instead of the Oreos we had that I know you ate last night. That doesn’t say much for his judgement.” Castiel’s eyes were still glued to his book. He wasn’ even reading the words.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded.

Castiel looked up. He looked like a kicked puppy, and Castiel hurriedly looked back down. “I said I don’t want to talk about it,” he said softly.

Dean sighed, resuming his drumming. “Okay, Cas. Then what do you want to do?”

“Just- forget about it.”

“Forget about it?”

“Like it never even happened.”

Dean opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then he shut it. He sighed. “Consider it forgotten.”

Castiel wondered if he’d made a mistake.

 

\---*---

 

Ellen told them everything that night. Sam was in Lafayette, Indiana, where a man, 23 years old, had been stabbed a month ago.

Dean immediately headed that way. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and braced himself. “Cas, I really-”

“I thought it was forgotten.” The lack of emotion in Cas’ voice was bothering Dean. He couldn’t tell what he was feeling, how he felt about the whole thing.

Dean gritted his teeth. “Can I just say something?”

“No.”

“Me saying something isn’t going to hurt you!”  
“I don’t want to hear it, Dean.”

“Okay, well, I want you to hear it.”

Cas stuffed his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalalalalalalala.”

“Real mature, Cas, really.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”  
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”

“Yes I do.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me.”

“No, because if I tell you, I’ll be able to hear it and I don’t want to hear it.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously.”

Dean sighed. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say, so how could Cas? He was trying to decide between apologizing or telling Cas how he felt, neither a thing he was good at even when the other person _wanted_ to hear it.

Which was confusing for Dean. Why wouldn’t he want to hear it? Because he likes their friendship as it is? Because he thought Dean was going to say something mean?

Dean sighed. “Fine.”

“Can we just go back to normal now?”

Dean could do normal. “You know what that means.” He grinned. The beautiful sounds of _Zeppelin IV_ filled the car, and Cas smiled a little.

“The wild beast known as Dean Winchester in its natural habitat,” Cas joked.

Dean kept his eyes on the road. If Cas didn’t want to hear it, he probably didn’t want to see it either, and according to Sam, he was obvious.

\---*---

 

They found Sam at the first hotel they found, the Blue Rose. He was with a woman, but in a way Castiel could tell wasn’t romantic, even through the window.

“Thank God he’s okay,” Dean breathed as soon as he laid eyes on his brother. Then he saw the woman, a girl, really. “Oh, he’s better than okay. Sam, you sly dog.”

Castiel hit Dean in the shoulder. He had to admit, it was nice to be in the front seat for once. “Are we just going to continue stalk-” The window of Sam’s motel room shattered. Dean and Castiel were out of the car in a split second, facing the direction the bullet had come. There was a sniper laying flat on his belly on the roof of a nearby building.

Dean squinted. “Is that Gordon?” Castiel didn’t answer, but he ducked at the second gunshot, as did Dean. “Come on.” They raced to the building, Dean boosting Castiel up to the fire escape and then jumping up and struggling to pull himself up. “Go!”

Castiel clanged up the fire escape, making no attempt to be subtle. The shooter, who was, in fact, Gordon seemed to be too focused on his target, Sam, to pay any attention to Castiel. He kicked the rifle to the side, Gordon along with it. However, the other hunter had apparently been more attuned to Castiel’s presence than he thought, because he was able to grab Castiel’s foot and drag him down as well. Castiel landed on his wrist, which he immediately knew was broken. He cried out in pain.

“Cas!” Dean shouted from the edge of the roof. Gordon was getting to his feet, while Castiel still lay on the ground.

“Don’t move, Dean, or I’ll shoot him, you know I will,” Gordon threatened, retrieving the rifle and putting the barrel against Castiel’s forehead. He placed his foot on his chest, over Castiel’s unbroken hand.

“I’ll kill you,” Dean growled.

“Not before I kill him. Or Sam.” Gordon reminded him. “Now, put down that gun, and come over here.”

Dean did not put down the gun, pocketing it instead, but he crept forward slowly. “Cas, you okay?”

“Fine, Dean,” Castiel lied. He was seeing stars.

As soon as Dean was in range, Gordon lifted the rifle and slammed the butt of it against Dean’s head. He collapsed mere inches from Castiel, their noses almost touching. Gordon then gave Castiel the same treatment he’d given Dean, and the stars went out.

 

\---*---

 

Gordon did not seem to care much about Castiel’s injury. He tied him rather tightly to a chair, despite the obvious swelling. Dean was awake and staring at the space above Castiel’s head.

It was all very awkward until Castiel’s phone started to ring. They all stared at it, sitting on a nearby table. “You gonna get that?” Gordon joked. Castiel glared. Gordon pulled out a pistol and held it to Dean’s head. He opened the phone and held it to Castiel’s ear. “Get the memo?”

“Yes. Hello, Sam. Your brother and I have been looking for you.”

“Hey, Cas. Do you have a minute?”

Castiel hesitated. He was sure the Winchesters had some method of communicating situations like these unbeknownst to Castiel. If he did make Dean talk, though, surely Gordon would think something suspicious was going on. Castiel sighed. Gordon was listening in anyway. “Of course. Let me just- Dean, how do you put it on speaker?”

Gordon glared at him but complied, holding the phone in the space between Dean and Castiel. “Hey, Sam.”

“Dean. Yeah, uh, look, I’m in Indiana, uh Lafayette,” Sam admitted.

“We know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I talked to Ellen. I just got here myself. It’s a real funky town,” Dean winked at Castiel, outside of Gordon’s vision. _Funkytown._ “You ditched us, Sammy. Well, I say us, but Cas just let you walk out the door, so.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Sam did not sound sorry in the least. “Look, uh, right now, there’s someone after me.”

“What? Who?” Dean and Castiel asked together, glaring at Gordon.

“I don’t know, that’s what we need to find out. Where are you?”

“We’re staying at 5637 Monroe street, why don’t you meet us here?” Dean answered.

“Yeah, sure.”

Gordon hung up the phone. “Now, was that so hard?”

Dean didn’t even glance at him. “Bite me.” Castiel glared at Dean. Gordon said nothing, just started rifling around in a duffle bag. “So, Gordy,” Dean began. Castiel threw his head back and groaned. “I know we ain’t exactly your favorite people, but don’t you think this is a little extreme?”

“Oh, you think this is revenge?”

Castiel shook his head at Dean, who ignored him once again. “We did leave you tied up in your own mess for a few days. Cas, by the way, tried to make us call when we were, like, an hour out. It’s not his fault I didn’t listen.”

Castiel glared at him and mouthed, _Really?_

“Yeah, I was definitely planning on whupping your ass for that, Dean. But that’s not what this is about. This isn’t personal,” Gordon assured them. “I’m not... a killer. I’m a hunter. And Sam is fair game.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “How?”

Gordon chuckled and pulled up a stool. “Let me tell the two of you a story. See, I was doing an exorcism down in  Louisiana. A teenage girl. It seemed routine, some low-level demon. But between all the jabbering and the head spinning, the damn thing muttered something, about a coming war. I don’t think it meant to. It just kind of slipped out. But it was too late. It piqued my interest. And you can really make a demon talk, if you got the right tools.”

“Yeah, what happened to the girl it was possessing?” Dean questioned.

“She didn’t make it.” Gordon seemed wholly unbothered by this, but Castiel’s blood boiled with rage. There were spells and exorcisms that his father had taught him to make a demon talk without hurting the person inside.

“Are you more concerned with your own _interests_ than a young girl’s life, you son of a bitch?” Castiel accused.

Gordon slapped him across the face. “That’s my mama you're talking about. And I am when it comes to demonic warfare. Anyway, this demon tells me they have soldiers to fight in this coming war. Humans fighting on Hell’s side, you believe that?” At this point, there wasn’t much Castiel wouldn’t believe about the world. “I mean, they’re psychics, so they’re not exactly pure humans, but still, what kind of worthless scumbag you got to be to turn against your own race?”

Castiel lowered his head. Was he a pure human? What did that even mean? He had… powers, abilities, and sure they were barely there and nothing that could possibly do any harm, but Castiel sensed there was more. He felt there was some kind of block, something missing between him and access to the rest of what he could truly do. But was he even human?

Was he part demon, like Sam? The thought crossed his mind that perhaps his mother was a demon, but no demon would name their child after an angel and then give him up to a hunter. It seemed the most anti-demon thing one could do.

Gordon was still talking. “But you know the biggest kick in the ass? This demon said I knew one of them- our very own Sammy Winchester.”

Dean laughed. “Well, this is- this is a whole new level of moronic, even for you.”

“Yeah? Come on, Dean. I know about Sam’s visions.” The smile faded from Dean’s face. “I know everything. You got your Roadhouse connections, I’ve got mine. It’s how I found Sammy in the first place.”

Castiel told himself not to panic. Panic never did good things. “Yes, Sam is a psychic.” Dean sputtered at him. “But he’s had visions his entire life,” Castiel lied. “And we’ve been looking into the psychics that are supposed to be these ‘soldiers’, and all of them have only started having abilities in the past year.” Dean relaxed.

Gordon snorted. “Sorry, Castiel, not buying it.” He sat, and Castiel deflated. It had been a long shot, anyway. “About a month ago, I found another one of these freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them.”

“Yeah, did he kill anyone?”

“Besides Mr. Tinkles the cat, no. But he was working up to it. They’re all gonna be killers, Dean. We got to take them all out, and that means Sammy, too.” Gordon pulled the bolt on his rifle.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “You are far more guilty of murder than Sam is. Stopping someone doesn’t necessarily mean killing them.”

Gordon just laughed at him. “You and your guilty conscience. Makes me wonder what is it you did that you feel so bad about.”

Castiel frowned. He hadn’t done anything.

 _You left,_ a voice in his head whispered.

Dean was looking at Castiel curiously, but he shook himself out and addressed Gordon. “You really think Sam is stupid enough to walk through that front door?”

“No, I don’t. Especially since I’m sure you found a way to warn him. Hah. You really think I’m that stupid?”

“Sort of,” Castiel mumbled.

“No, Sammy’s gonna scope the place first, see me covering the front door.” Gordon turned. “So he’s gonna take the back. And when he does, he’ll hit the tripwire. Then…” Gordon showed them a grenade,” “boom.”

“Sam’s not gonna fall for a frickin’ tripwire,” Dean stated adamantly.

“Maybe you're right. That’s why I’ll have a second one.” Dean looked unsure about that. Castiel bit his lip worriedly. “Hey, look, I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t have to do this. I really do.” There were tears shining in Dean’s eyes, and Castiel was surprised at the lack of his own. Mostly, he was just angry.

“What about us, Gordon? Dean and I aren’t part of any demon armies. Are you going to kill us?”

Gordon scoffed. “Of course not. Dean, I’m going to turn into the FBI after the two of you sit here, for three days, with no food, no water, or bathroom breaks. And, Castiel, I suppose you’ll be set free to do what you want without the Winchesters bringing you down.”

Castiel was fuming. He narrowed his eyes and spoke in a low tone. “Gordon, I promise you, if you hurt a hair on Sam Winchester’s head I will hunt you until your dying breath.”

Gordon leaned over and whispered, “I thought you weren’t a killer.”

“It’s not called murder if it’s justice.”

Gordon chuckled and leaned back. “Well then, good luck with that, Castiel. Let me know how it turns out.”

Gordon left the room, and Dean let a single tear fall. “We’re so fucked.”

Castiel tried to sit up straight, but his still broken wrist prevented it. “I still believe Sam will be able to handle himself.”

“Okay, well, you believing it doesn’t make it true,” Dean snapped.

Castiel huffed. “Dean, stop it. You're not mad at me.”

“Maybe I am mad at you.”

Castiel glared. “Fine, then, be mad. See if I’ll help you break out of prison.”

Dean sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

Dean gave him a once-over. “Are you sure you're alright? You're sweating buckets.”

Castiel did not ask for the meaning of the metaphor. “I’m fine, Dean, it’s nothing.”

“Cas.” Castiel met Dean’s earnest, pleading eyes and he sighed.

“I believe I broke my wrist.”

Dean winced. “God, Cas, what the hell happens if you don’t treat broken bones?”

“It depends on the break, but a number of unfortunate things could happen. Gangrene, marrow leak, infection-” Castiel leaned in and spoke so Gordon couldn’t hear. “I know I seem to able to heal myself, but only from the verge of death, and the problem is never even necessarily fixed, just irrelevant.”

Dean leaned in as well. “Yeah, except for the weird nightmare thing, most of those scars just disappeared.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’d rather not test the specifics, Dean.” Castiel suddenly noticed how very close his mouth was to Dean’s, and Dean seemed to notice the same thing. They both lurched back, blushing. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, either way. It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it.”

Dean sighed. “I hate not doing anything.”

 

\---*---

 

Once Gordon set the trip wires, he returned to Dean and Castiel. Dean tried again to plead with Gordon, but to no avail. Castiel wasn’t paying attention, focusing instead on the pain in his wrist. If he focused, really focused, could he heal it? Could he control it?

The second he tried, there was the migraine. But Castiel decided that if he could push through it, it would work. He barely even noticed when Gordon gagged him.

Castiel tried and tried, but eventually the pain of the headache mixed with hi wrist knocked him out cold.

He was up again in a few minutes, and he stopped trying. It was a lost cause. Castiel opened his eyes to Dean, also gagged, just sitting there staring at the ground. Castiel sighed. Now came the true waiting game.

Then they heard it. The sound of the lock to the back door being picked. Castiel panicked, just a little bit on the inside. Despite what he had told Dean, he was not confident enough in Sam to believe that he would actually survive. It was too much to hope for, just like hoping that Dean-

The first bomb went off. Castiel bit the gag to keep from screaming, but Dean gave himself no such restrictions. He screamed over the sound of the explosion, but Gordon shushed him. “Hold on, not yet. Let’s wait and see.”

Dean was breathing heavily, his Castiel held his.

There was a second explosion, and this time, Castiel let himself roar in anger. This one was bigger, and Dean’s hair was coated in dust. Gordon stood. “Sorry, Dean.” He went into the room with the explosives.

Castiel’s brain refused to process the fact that Sam was dead. He sat in stunned silence, just staring into space.

“Put it down now!” The words made Castiel jump, irritating his wrist, but it was _Sam._

Dean tried to turn and see what was happening. Castiel could hear fighting, but he couldn’t tell who was winning. Dean was trying to pull apart his restraints by pure force of will.

Sam was the one who came back through that door. Castiel didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The second Dean was free of his restraints, he examined both Sam and Castiel’s wrist. After determining that neither needed immediate attention, he started towards the other room. “Dean,” Sam called, “no.”

Dean turned back to them. “I let him live once, I’m not making the same mistake again.”

“Dean,” Castiel reprimanded softly. “Stopping someone doesn’t necessarily mean killing them.”

Dean slumped. “What, then?”

“Unlike many of our enemies, Gordon is human. He can go to jail,” Castiel suggested.

Sam nodded. “I already took care of it, now come on, Cas needs to go to the hospital.”

Dean still looked hesitant, but Sam grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him out. They walked out of the decrepit old house in silence, and Castiel was about to say something when his wrist, his broken wrist, was grazed by a bullet. He screamed in pain and fell to his knees. Dean hauled him and up and made him run. Apparently, Gordon was not as unconscious as they had thought.

“You call this taken care of?” Dean exclaimed as they ran into a ditch. “What the hell are we doing?”

“Just trust me on this,” Sam reiterated.

The police seemed to come out of nowhere. The sirens wailed and the cars  trapped Gordon so he had nowhere to run. They watched them handcuff him and look in his car. Dean grinned when they saw Gordon’s collection of very illegal weaponry.

“Anonymous tip,” Sam explained.

“You’re a fine upstanding citizen, Sam.”

“Can we please go to the hospital now?” Castiel whined. Dean patted him on the shoulder.

“Sure thing, buddy.”

 

\---*---

 

Sam was waiting with coffee when Castiel got out of surgery. “Hey, you got a blue cast. They didn’t offer me colors.”

Castiel took the coffee from Sam’s hands and chugged the entire thing before answering. “You didn’t have to have surgery. You just fractured some stupid hand bones fighting a zombie.”

“Uh, that’s way cooler than you just falling backwards. It literally could have happened any day, any time. Zombies are rare.”

Castiel scoffed. “Where’s Dean?”

Sam shrugged. “Bathroom. Hey, speaking of, did you guys ever talk?”

Castiel glared at him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I’ll take that as a no, then. Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it.”

“ _Why?”_

Castiel huffed. “Because I value my friendship with your brother, and I know how he treats his romantic interests.” Those were two points on his long, long list of reasons. Castiel was not an idiot. He knew Dean’s feelings for him. He also knew that Dean liked to flirt, a lot. He used his flirting to their advantage on cases. He also knew that the longest Dean had ever been with a woman was a few weeks before he left. Castiel did not want that to be him. Besides, hunting left very little room for love. He’d seen what the loss of a partner had done to hunters over the years, and it was not pretty.

He didn’t want to risk it, even though it hurt. It hurt, and he was afraid.

“But you're not just some random chick! Okay, look, when we ran into Dean’s ex in Mississippi, I thought they were in love, but then you stuck around and you two are so _sickening_ in love it makes me want to puke, you know that? You're not just anyone, and Dean wouldn’t treat you like that,” Sam argued.

“Drop it, Sam,” Dean ordered. Castiel did not look up. He wondered how much of their conversation he had heard. “Let’s just go.”

They all trudged out to the car in silence, and drove in silence. Then, when the Winchesters thought Castiel was asleep, Sam asked quietly, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know I need to tell you to stop meddling.”

“Look, Dean, I’m sorry, but I figured if he wouldn’t talk to you-”

“Oh, shut up, Sam, you just wanted the gossip.” The car was silent again for some amount of time until Dean spoke softly. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because Cas doesn’t want my sorry ass.”

On the inside, Castiel mourned. He _did_ want Dean, but his cowardice had won out above that.

“Come on, man, that’s not what he said, not at all. He said-”

“I heard what he said, Sam, he said we were friends, and that’s it. I got friendzoned, and you know what, it’s all my fault. I’m just reaping what I’ve sown here,” Dean moaned.

Sam sighed. “You're an idiot. He loves you too, you know.”

“Hey now, no one said anything about love,” Dean corrected, fake chuckling.

“Mmhmm. Sure, Dean.”

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Castiel couldn’t help but feel he’d done something terribly wrong.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel frowned at Sam’s report. “Angels aren’t real, and even if they were, why would they tell her to kill someone?”

“I don’t know, Cas, why don’t you tell us,” Dean suggested lazily, his voice vibrating with the bed. Things had been mostly the same with them recently, plus a spike in both Dean’s depression and Castiel’s nightmares. Dean was still, however, on the idea that Castiel was some sort of angel. Castiel rolled his eyes at him.

“I don’t know, but I’m telling you, this woman genuinely thought an angel told her to stab that man in the heart,” Sam restated, ignoring Dean as Castiel had. “She said it came in a beautiful white light, and spoke God’s word, and that she was chosen for redemption, and Dean, would you _please_ stop with the magic fingers.”

“Hey, you guys left me here all alone while you got to play orderly and whatever the hell Cas did.”

“Dean, I went to the store.”

“Whatever, you guys won’t let me leave the room. In fact, why couldn’t I have just stayed in Denver?”

“Because shut up, that’s why, you're the one that robbed a bank,” Sam said maturely.

“Hey, you're wanted too, Sammy,” Dean reminded his brother.

“They still have no idea who I am,” Castiel bragged happily.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, so this chick, Gloria,” Sam continued, “she described it all, blinding lights, spiritual ecstacy, they works. Plus, she’s living in a locked ward, totally at peace.”

Dean’s machine beeped and he finally got out of bed. “Yeah, that sounds sane. What about the guy she stabbed?”

“Uh, Carl Gulley. Said she killed him ‘cuz he was evil.”

“Was he?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t find any dirt on him. I mean, he didn’t have a criminal record, he worked at the campus library, had lots of friends, was a churchgoer.”

“Hmm. So Gloria’s just your standard-issue wacko?” Dean summed up. “I mean, she wouldn’t be the first nutjob in history to kill in the name of religion, know what I mean?”

“No,” Sam agreed, “but she’s the second in town to murder because an angel told them to. Little bit odd, don’t you think?”

“Little odd, yes, supernatural, maybe, but angels- I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Sam wondered.

Castiel frowned. “Sam, there’s no such thing.” Dean nodded in agreement.

Sam laughed. “Guys, there’s 10 times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we’ve ever hunted.”

“There’s a ton of lore on unicorns, too, Sam. I hear they ride on silver moonbeams and they shoot rainbows out of their ass.” Dean countered. Castiel made a face at him.

Sam sat down. “Wait, there’s no such thing as unicorns?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Sam, if there were such a thing as angels, there would be proof. Hunters would have recorded them, _we,_ as investigators of the paranormal, would know.”

“Yeah, exactly, there’s some legends that you just gotta file under ‘bull crap,’ because nobody can prove it,” Dean added.

Sam blinked at them. “Any you’ve got angels under the bull crap list.”

“Yup.”

“Just because you haven’t seen one.”

“It’s not just that we haven’t, it’s that no one has, Sam. I’ve never seen an okami, but I know they’re real because other people have had contact with them,” Castiel reiterated.

“Yeah, but we’ve seen things most people couldn’t even dream about!”

“Exactly.” Dean agreed. “With our own eyes- that’s hard proof, okay? But in all this time, I have never seen anything that looks like an angel. The closest thing is _Cas-ti-el_ here _,_ and that’s based on a completely off-the-wall theory of my own invention, and a demon telling him he had a halo, which I still can’t see. Don’t you think that if there were actual angels out there, we would have crossed paths with them at some point? Cas said it, we don’t even know anyone that knows anyone that’s crossed paths with on, this is a demon or a spirit, okay? They find people a few fries short of a happy meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms.”

“Maybe,” Sam conceded. Dean and Castiel traded exasperated looks.

Dean rubbed his temples. “Can we just- I’m going stir-crazy, guys.”

Castiel sighed. “I sense some breaking and entering coming on.”

“Let’s go by Gloria’s apartment huh?”

“There it is.”

“I was just there,” Sam denied. “Nothing. No sulfur, no E.M.F.-”

“You didn’t see any fluffy, white, wing feathers?” Dean teased.

Sam igored him. “But, Gloria did say the angel gave her a sign, right beside Carl Gulley’s doorway.”

“Could be something at his house. It’s worth checking out,” Dean persuaded.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Dean cheered. “Whoo, hear that, Cas, breaking and entering!”

Castiel groaned. “This is why you're a felon.”

 

\---*---

 

They figured the Jesus statue next to Carl gulley’s door was the sign Gloria had seen. Dean peeked in the windows, but ended up rejoining Sam and Castiel at the bottom of the stairs. Sam seemed reluctant to leave, studying the house further. He led them through the open gate to a basement cellar door. “You know, Gloria said that the guy was guilty to his deepest foundations,” Sam recalled.

“You think she literally meant the foundation?” Dean asked skeptically.

Castiel shrugged. “I suppose there’s no harm in finding out.” They opened the cellar doors and went down, each other them having to duck their heads to fit. Dean shone his flashlight directly in Castiel’s eyes, and he smacked it out of hands, down the stairs.

“Shoudn’t those glasses filter out all light? The lenses are thicker than the soles of my shoes.” Castiel shone his own light in Dean’s face. He just laughed.

The cellar looked exactly like a cellar should look- rough, slightly sketchy, filled with weird candles and jars. There was nothing incriminating, though.

“Hey,” Sam called, crouched in front of nothing but a wall.

“You got something?” Dean and Castiel framed Sam, peering at four long scratches on the wall. Sam wiggled his fingers in the crumbling concrete and unearted a well-painted nail.

Dean stood, going back to the other side of the cellar for two shovels. Castiel, his arm still broken, stood back and watched the Winchesters dig into the ground next to the scratch marks. Eventually they revealed a skelton, buried in the cellar of a dead man. “So much for the innocent churchgoing librarian,” Sam commented.

“Yeah, well, whatever spoke to Gloria about this knew what it was talking about, I’ll give you that,” Dean noted.

Castiel tilted his head. “The ‘angel’ Gloria saw could very easily be the spirit of this woman.”

“How do you know it’s a woman?” Dean challenged.

Castiel shrugged. “I can tell just from here by her hips.” The Winchesters stared at him. “I majored in forensics,” Castiel explained.

Sam frowned. “I thought you majored in psychology?”

“I did both.”

Dean shook his head. “Of course you did. Well then, let’s salt and burn her just to be sure and then we’ll go from there.”

 

\---*---

 

They didn’t have to wait long to find out if it worked. That very night, a man was stabbed in the gut by a man who turned himself in to the police, claiming an angel made him do ot. Sam came back with information on Carl Gulley’s kidnapping habits.

Castiel yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Now what?”

“Well, while you were hiding all the quarters, I was doing my _job_ and got the victim’s address,” Dean announced proudly.

Castiel nodded sarcastically. “Mhm. If I hadn’t hidden the quarters, I doubt we would even know about the murder right now.”

“Shut up.”

 

\---*---

 

They were in the house the next morning, looking for any indication that this man deserved to die. After about half an hour of searching, Dean called out to Castiel. “Cas, you got anything?”

“I’m certain one man would never need this much medication, but otherwise, no. There’s a time marked on the calender today, labeled Jennifer,” Castiel responded.

“Okay!” Not five minutes late, Castiel was called into the living room.

“What did you find?”

“Soooo, this guy was, like, early fourties, and he started talking to this thirteen year old girl, Jennifer, and they were supposed to meet today,” Sam explained.

Castiel crinkled his nose. “I can’t imagine what anyone would do to a thirteen year old child.”

“That’s ‘cuz you're a good person, Cas. Also, stop doing that with your face,” Dean ordered.

Castiel furrowed his brows as well. “Why?”

Dean burst into laughter. “Because you look like a freakin’ bunny rabbit, that’s why.” Castiel dropped the face and grinned.

“Guys. Come on.”

Dean cleared his throat seriously. “Right. So, this is weird, because most spirits are after vengeance towards people that wronged them, personally, but this one’s almost like a do-gooder, like a-”

“Avenging angel?” Sam suggested. Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, how else do you explain it? Three guys, not connected to each other all stabbed through the heart? At least two were world-class pervs, and I bet if you dug deep enough on the other guy-”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted.

“What?”

“You said Carl Gulley was a churchgoer, right?” Castiel looked over Dean’s shoulder curiously at the piece of paper in his hands.

“Yeah.” Sam still sounded annoyed.

“What was the name of his church?”

“Uh…”  
“Our Lady of the Angels?” Castiel guessed.

“Yeah.”

Dean scoffed. “Of course that would be the name. Looks like Frank went to the same church,” Dean said, showing Sam the paper. “Connection found.”

\---*---

 

The church was big, and old, looking more like a castle than a house of God. Then again, maybe that was the point.

They lied and told the pastor that they were thinking about joining the parish, and he offered to give them a tour of the church. “So,” Dean started, “we heard about the murders.”

“Yes,” the priest said sadly, “the victims were parishioners of mine. I’ve known them for years.”

“And the killers said that an angel made them do it?” Sam confirmed unnecessarily.

“Yes. Misguided souls. To think that God’s messenger would appear and incite people to murder- it’s tragic.”

“So you don’t believe in those angel yarns, huh?” Dean asked dangerously. Castiel kicked him lightly.

Luckily, the priest took no offense at the question. “Oh, no, I absolutely believe. It kind of goes with the job description.”

Sm quickly changed the subject from belief. He pointed at a painting to the right of Castiel. “Father, that’s Michael, right?”

“That’s right. The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword, the fighter of demons, holy force against evil,” the priest answered. If that was what angels were, Castiel thought, then the three of them were more like angels than anything the killers had seen.

“So they’re not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks?” Sam and Dean traded a look. Sam was trying to make a point to them, subtly. “They’re fierce, right? Vigilant.”

“Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful, but, yes, a lot of scriptures paint angels as God’s warriors. ‘An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified,’” the priest quoted.

“Luke 2:9,” Castiel supplied.

The priest nodded at him. “Very good. What was your name again?”

“Castiel.” He decided to answer truthfully, just to see if the priest knew anything else about angels.

The priest looked excited. “Is it really? That’s an angel’s name! Castiel, angel of Thursdays, solitude, and tears. Not a name I would give to a child, but unique. Were your parents religious?”

“My mother named me. I never knew her,” Castiel responded without an ounce of sadness. It was just a fact.

“Well, I’m sure she had a good reason. Any other questions?”

Dean shook his head. “No, I think we’re good.”

“Okay, then follow me right this way.” The priest pushed right past them and led them out the large front doors. Sam thanked the man as they descended the steps. “It was my pleasure, I hope to see you again.”

Castiel noticed on the concrete bannister, candles and cards and ribbons were piled up. He nudged Dean toward it. “Hey, Father, what’s all that for?”

The priest glanced at it sadly. “Oh, that’s for Father Gregory. He was a priest here.”

“Was?”  
“Passed away right on these steps.” Castiel raised his eyebrows. A dead priest, three of his most sinful parishioners following. Everything was falling into place. “He’s interred into the church crypt.”

“When was this?” Castiel asked.

“Two months ago. He was shot for his car keys.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam expressed sincerely.

The priest nodded. “Yeah, me too. He was a good friend. I didn’t even have time to administer his last rites. But, like I said, it’s a tough neighborhood. Ever since he died, I’ve been praying my heart out.”

“For what?”

“For deliverance… from the violence and the bloodshed around here.” Castiel nodded. If there was ever something to pray for.

The priest went back inside, and Dean plucked a photo of the deceased from the shrine. “Well, this is all starting to make sense. Devoted priest dies a violent death? That’s vengeful spirit material right there. And he knew all the stiffs because they went to church here.”

Castiel nodded. “I’m guessing he knew which ones should be killed because they confessed their sins to him.”

Sam was still pushing for angels. “Then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God’s help about two months ago, right? Right about the time all this started?”

“Right about the time Father Gregory died…” Castiel reminded him. “And I believe he said he was praying for an end to violence, and I don’t believe that if there is such a thing as God, he would do the direct opposite of what was prayed for.”

“Well, I mean-”

Dean groaned. “Seriously, man, what is your deal. It’s obviously not angels, but from the get-go you’ve been willing to buy that crap. What’s next, are you going to start praying every day?” Dean put the picture back. Sam was silent.

“I do.”

“What?”

“I do pray every day. I have for a long time.”

Clearly this was something Dean did not know. Castiel did. It was something Sam had revealed to him during their time at Bobby’s. “The things you learn about a guy. Like, uh, Castiel.” The use of his full name in Dean’s mouth sent shivers down his spine. “You got Thursdays, lame, and tears and solitude? What the hell? No offense, dude, but your mom was messed up.” Castiel would not argue that. “Come on, let’s go check out this dude’s grave.”

They snuck back inside the church, seeing no one. They found their way to the crypt, and Dean and Castiel went inside. Sam did not. They waited a few minutes, and then Dean went back out. “Sammy?” Castiel also left the room. Sam was just laying on the ground, asleep. Dean ran to his brother, jerking him awake. Castiel knelt in front of them. “Okay?”  
Sam just grinned. “Yeah.” He glanced at the stone angel. “Yeah.”

Castiel helped him up. “You saw the spirit.”

“No. No, Cas, I saw an angel.” Dean and Castiel traded concerned looks. Dean pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket and extended it towards Sam. “Dean, I don’t want a drink.”

Castiel did, very badly, even though he had never been much for alcohol. He plucked the flask from Dean’s hands and took a sip. Dean took it back and took a much longer sip. “Sam, why do you think you saw an angel?” Castiel asked.

Sam shrugged one shoulder. “It just- appeared before me, and I just- this feeling washed over me, you know?” Castiel took another drink. “Like, like peace, like grace.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, ecstasy boy, maybe we’ll get you some glow sticks and a nice Dr. Suess hat, huh?”

“Dean, I’m serious. It spoke to me, it knew who I was.”

“It’s just a spirit, Sam. And it’s not the first one to be able to read people’s minds. Okay, let me guess- you were personally chosen to smite some sinner, you just gotta wait for some divine bat signal,” Dean guessed, sitting in the pew next to Sam. Castiel remained standing.

“Yeah, actually.”

Castiel groaned. “Sam, sinner or not, you can’t, not even if it was an angel telling you to do it!”"

“He’s going to do something bad!”

“What?”

Sam had no answer. Dean stood, shaking his head. “This is ridiculous.”

“The angel hasn’t been wrong yet!” Sam insisted.

“Yes, Sam, the ‘angel’ has been wrong, wrong about _murder._ ” Castiel reminded him. What was wrong with him?

“Cas, someone is going to do something awful, and I can stop it!”

Castiel took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Sam,” he started, keeping his voice steady, “that is exactly what Gordon said about you.”

Sam sighed. “I just- I don’t understand. Why can’t either of you even consider the possibility? You guys are always the ones about exploring every option!”

Dean took another sip of whiskey. “What, that this is an angel?”

“Yes! Maybe we’re hunting an angel here, and we should stop!”

“Stop? Sam, angel or not, people are dying.” Castiel did not see how Sam couldn’t understand.

“People that deserve to die.”

“No one _deserves_ to die!”

“Really, Cas, you think we should just let these people carry on with what they’re doing?”

“I didn’t say that, but there is a reason we have prisons, so those people can _live_ with their crimes. If this were truly an angel, wouldn’t it be more concerned with letting the truth of their crimes be known?”

“Okay, guys,” Dean interrupted. “Sam, we know you have faith, that’s fine, good for you, I’m sure it makes things easier. Murder? Not fine, by the way. But you wanna know who else had faith like that? Mom.” Sam looked surprised. So was Castiel. The Winchesters, more specifically Dean, rarely talked about their mother. “She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me.” Castiel resisted the urge to touch him, offer any comfort. He wasn’t sure it would be appreciated.

“You never told me that,” Sam said softly.

“What’s to tell? She was wrong.” Castiel figured that therein lies the reason for Dean’s lack of belief. “There was nothing protecting her.”

Sam turned away from his brother to Castiel, clearly expecting something from him as well, an explanation. Castiel just shrugged. “I’ve never had any reason to believe.”

Sam shook his head. “Bullshit. This could be a reason to believe, but you won’t. What’s your deal?”

Castiel sighed and studied the ceiling. “I don’t want to believe in them. If they exist, then they aren’t doing anything. I’m sure angels would be more capable of ridding the world of evil than we are. As long as they don’t exist, I know that all the pain and bloodshed in my family, in yours, in Jo’s and every other hunter in the world have faced is just the price for keeping the evil at bay, and it’s worth it. But if there are angels… it’s just another thing they let happen.”

Dean called Castiel back to Earth. “Well, Cas, don’t worry, you still don’t have to believe in them.” There were tears in Sam’s eyes. “Because I have proof, proof that we’re dealing with a spirit.”

 

\---*---

 

Castiel didn’t know how he had failed to notice the wormwood growing over Father Gregory’s grave, but Castiel could tell it was starting to convince Sam. Dean was about to argue with his brother when Castiel’s phone rang. The caller ID belonged to Jo. Sam looked at it. “You should probably get that, Ellen said she hasn’t heard from her since we went on that hunt with her a few weeks back.”

Castiel nodded and stepped outside the crypt to answer the phone. “Hello?”

 _“Castiel? I need your help,”_ Jo said in a whisper.

“Of course, Jo, what do you need?”  
_“I might be a tad kidnapped at the moment.”_

Castiel groaned. “Where are you?”

_“Vampire’s nest in Nashville, it’s a silver silo with a black roof. Cas, I really hate to ask this of you, but please come. Also, don’t tell my mom.”_

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. How are you calling me? They didn’t take your phone?”

_“I always keep two phones on me, one in my pocket and one in my bra.”_

Castiel frowned, tilting his head thoughtfully. “That’s rather intelligent, Jo.”

_“I know, I’m amazing, now get your ass here.”_

Castiel hung up and returned to the Winchesters. “Dean, I need to borrow your car.”

“What? Why?”

“Jo needs my help. Please, just-” He held out his hand for the keys.

Dean handed them over without further complaint. “Do you need us to go with? What’s she need help with?”

“She just needs my help. Don’t tell Ellen.” Castiel paused. “If you don’t hear from me in the next 36 hours, go to Nashville. Check the silos.” He left the room, closing the doors on Dean’s shouts to be careful and went directly for the Impala. His drive was silent with no one else in the car to put on the music or comment on the shape of the clouds or play the license plate game with. He decided he didn’t like travelling alone.

 

\---*---

 

It took Castiel 16 and a half hours to get to Nashville, but he drove straight through. In that time, Dean had called him and informed him that Gregory’s spirit was at rest and he and Sam would just wait in Rhode Island for Castiel to return. He didn’t offer any details, and Castiel was grateful. He needed to focus now, so close to Jo. He found the silo easily, it was the first Castiel passed. He armed himself with nothing but his pistol and two machetes. He expected to open the door and have to sneak past dozens of sleeping vampires to get to his friend, but when he slid open the silo door, there were only three people inside. The first was Jo, looking rather well for someone who had just been kidnapped. She also looked very willing to be there. The second was a man Castiel did not recognize.

“Castiel,” Jo purred, and Castiel knew immediately that this was not Jo, this was something else. “We’ve been just _dying_ to see you.” Castiel did not answer, just exchanged one of his machetes for his pistol. Jo laughed. “You're not going to shoot me, Castiel, not in this body, she’s like a sister to you.”

“Meg,” Castiel guess, and the demon grinned with Jo’s face.

“Happy to see me?”

“Not in the least.”

“Children, children,” the man pleaded. “This is not why we called Castiel here today, Meg.” Castiel knew immediately that this man was the Yellow-Eyed Demon. Standing in front of him were his father’s murders, and he could do nothing to hurt them. Meg was in Jo’s body, and he was certain he knew no exorcisms that would be able to hurt the Demon. It addressed Castiel. “Castiel, my name is Azazel.” Without even knowing it, the Demon had just given Castiel everything he needed to know. The stories went that he was a fallen angel, gone with Lucifer in the war. Every religion that mentioned him described him as a scapegoat. A scapegoat for Satan. Demons that were classified as fallen angels could only be destroyed by the Colt, or the sword of an angel. “I’m here to make you a deal.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “I have absolutely 0 intentions of making any kind of deal with you.”

“You haven’t even heard my offer yet. If you agree to come with me, do everything I say, I’ll do a few things for you.” Castiel said nothing, giving the Demon permission to go on. “Well, first of all, Meg will let the lovely Jo go. Free as a bird and her own person. Then, I’ll bring your father back. And, lastly, I will save Dean Winchester.”

Castiel straightened, almost dropping his weapons. “Save him? From what?”

Azazel grinned. “Why, his destiny, of course. You see, Castiel, Dean is meant to knock over the domino that starts the apocalypse. But I can make sure that doesn’t happen. I can make it so those circumstances never exist.”

Castiel hesitated. Jo, his father, _Dean._ Of course, it was unlikely he’d ever see them again if he agreed to this, but they would be safe. Doubtlessly they would try to free him, but even upon failure Castiel could make sure they were protected. There was just one thing. “What about Sam?”

The Demon’s smile receded slightly, but he otherwise showed no emotion at the question. “What about him?”

“Your plans for him,” Castiel snarled.

“Oh, yes, that. Well, Castiel, I wish I could something about that for you, but unfortunately, I need Sam. He’s an integral piece in my plan, which I could tell you all about, if you join me.”

Castiel knew the deal was worth it, despite Sam remaining part of this master plan. After all, Castiel had nothing substantial to lend to Azazel, could play no part in any evil. But still Castiel hesitated. He knew if he said no he would not walk out of this place alive, but if he said yes, how could he be sure that Azazel would deliver? Castiel took a deep breath. “I will consider it.”

The Demon raised an eyebrow. “That’s just a fancy way of saying no, Castiel.”

“It’s not. I need time, and there are things I would need to take care of.” Castiel’s heart was beating wildly as the Demon considered his words.

“Alright. And, as a show of good faith, I’ll give Jo back now. I’m tired of seeing her.” Azazel flicked his fingers, and Meg erupted out of Castiel’s friend, leaving her heaving on the ground. Castiel ran to her, getting far closer to the Demon then he would have liked. “You have two months, Castiel. Two months, and then I will take Sam Winchester and begin my war. Once you’ve made your decision, say this incantation.” Azazel handed Castiel a slip of paper. He didn’t even bother looking at it, just shoved it into his pocket.

And then he was gone. Castiel gathered Jo into his arms. She was shivering and whimpering. Castiel took a deep breath, and then carried Jo to the car. He strapped her into the backseat, where she slept. Castiel called Dean.

_“Hey, Cas, did you get her?”_

“Yes. But it wasn’t Jo, it was Meg.”

_“Meg? Well, what did she want? What did she say?”_

“The Demon actually did most of the talking.” Castiel heard a _thud_ that was most likely Dean dropping his phone.

_“WHAT?”_

“He wanted to make a deal. Actually, now that I think about it, it’s more of a slave trade.”

_“Cas- you- *sigh* How the hell did you make it out?”_

“I told him I’d think about it.”

Dean was silent. _“You're actually considering this, aren’t you? Bastard.”_

“I fail to see what me being a bastard has to do with this.”

_“I guess you can’t use that as an insult to actual bastards. Cas, what the hell did it offer you that makes you want to skip off into the sunset with him?”_

“I can promise there will be no skipping, Dean. He offered me Jo, and my father back, and your safety.”

_“My safety from what? And what about Sam?”_

Castiel’s face heated, even though he was a thousand miles away from Dean. “Um. Just. In general. And he said he couldn’t do anything about Sam. Trust me, Dean, if he had I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”

_“You're a shit liar, Cas, but I’m not going to let you do this, even if he offered to make Sam king of America, okay? That’s not- that’s not fair.”_

“Really, Dean? Four lives, four people safe and alive, in exchange for me sitting in a room all day because _I can’t do anything._ ”

Dean sighed again. _“That’s not how it works, Cas, okay? No.”_

“It’s my decision, Dean, but I haven’t made it yet. I’m on my way back to Rhode Island, I’ll be there in 16 hours. Tell Sam to look up the demon Azazel. Goodbye, Dean.”

 _“Cas-”_ Castiel hung up on him. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

 

\---*---

 

Sam shook his head. “So, let me get this straight. The Demon, Azazel, whatever, wants you to come join him, even though all you can do is heal yourself, and that’s only in extreme circumstances.”

“Yes.”

“And in return, he offered to bring your dad back, and keep Dean safe from whatever, and make Meg leave Jo.”

“Yes.”

“But he let Jo go anyways.”

“Yes.”

“And he still needs me for his plan.”

“Yes.”

“And in two months, I’m gonna be kidnapped.”

“Yes.”

“And you have to answer within those months.”

“Yes.”

“And you're actually considering this?”

 _“Yes._ ”

Sam shook his head again. “No, dude, no way. I mean, are you crazy?”

Castiel sighed, falling backwards onto the bed he was currently sitting on. Jo whacked him in the stomach. She had been sworn to absolute secrecy, not that Castiel thought she would actually tell anyone. She may have been a gossip, but never about anything terribly incriminating. “Sam, it’s my father. And _Dean._ ”

“Dean already told you how he felt about this, and I’m sure your father wouldn’t want to be brought back, not like this!”

“Where is Dean, anyway?” Jo inquired, looking around.

“He went for a drink. Shocker, I know, but this is just a preview, man. You know he’s gonna gonna be wrecked if you do this, you know how he feels about you.” Jo smirked and nudged Castiel with her foot. Castiel smacked her calf.

“Sam, I’ll do what I want,” he said forcefully, and Sam seemed to accept this as truth.

“Fine. But, guys, let’s- let’s not tell Dean that Azazel wants to kidnap me. He’ll just flip out and lock the both of us in some creepy basement.”

Castiel and Jo both agreed, and then Jo stood. “I gotta go. I’m working in a bar in Duluth, and I’ve already missed a ton of work.”

Castiel started to stand. “I’ll drive you to the airport.” Sam pushed him back down.

“I think you’ve done enough driving, Cas, I bet you haven’t slept since before you left here, I’ll do it,” Sam offered.

Castiel sighed. “Thank you, Sam. Goodbye, Jo.” Jo leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, her breath still smelling of sulfur. As soon as they were out the door, Castiel was falling asleep…

 

\---*---

 

Dean found the bar, but he couldn’t bring himself to go inside, so he just walked around the town aimlessly for a while. No one bothered him. He was just walking, thinking. Thinking about Cas and his stupid deal, even though he knew if it was him he would have agreed on the spot, his father instead of Cas’, Cas instead of him. Even without Sam, it would have been better for everyone to have John back. Certainly between the three of them, Sam wouldn’t even need to be a part of the deal in order to be safe. All of them were so much smarter and better at the job than Dean.

He sighed and headed back to the motel. Cas would be back by now, he supposed. He didn’t know whether he would yell at him or comfort him. In the end, the choice was made for him, as Cas was asleep when he walked in. Sam and Jo were nowhere to be seen. Dean smiled at the sight of Cas asleep. He wasn’t even laying the right way, he was sideways and half hanging off the bed. Dean guessed he had been sitting there and just fallen asleep after staying up late and then driving 32 hours without an ounce of sleep. Dean removed Cas’ shoes and peeled back the motel bedspread. He carefully lifted Cas up, trying not to wake him. He was always surprised at how light he was, as he wore baggy clothes that made him look bigger than he actually was. Dean tucked him in before kissing him softly on the forehead.

Dean straightened up and looked down at Cas, his best friend, and he decided he was in love. He expected it to be huge, some colossal realization that would change everything, but it was softer than that. It was his mother playing “Hey Jude” and it was Sammy asking for help on his homework and his father ruffling his hair. Cas made his insides feel all soppy and soft in the places he’d always been too hard, too closed-off. Sam was always trying to break down his walls with force, but Cas was willing to sit and wait for them to melt. He was the sun to Dean’s moon, the sky to his Earth, and they _fit._ Cas belonged here, with him and Sam, Dean was sure of it. When he had asked Cas to stay, he’d said that it would be easier to find the Demon if they all stuck together, but Cas was permanent.

Dean just didn’t know how to make Cas see it that way. Dean needed him, and after all of this was over he couldn’t just leave.

Dean didn’t know what he would do if Cas took that deal with the Demon. One thing was certain, he would kill it, but by the time he got to do that it might be too late.

Cas was fidgeting about in bed, uncomfortable in his jacket, and Dean tugged it off. When he did, he felt a piece of paper in Cas’ pocket. He pulled it out. It looked like Latin. Cas was always translating things he thought would sound better in some other language, but this wasn’t Cas’ handwriting. Dean hesitated for only a moment before saying the words aloud. “ _Paratus sum.”_

“Well, well, well, of all the people. How’ve you been, Dean?”

Dean whirled around, his eyes widening. Before him stood a man with yellow eyes, looking casual as anything. Dean registered that he was unarmed, and it was all he could do not to run to Cas. “What do you want?”

The Demon, Azazel, raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Dean, you're the one that called me, although I do remember giving that little cheat sheet to Castiel. Undressing him while he’s sleeping, are we? Kinky.”

Dean felt his cheeks burn. “Well, I didn’t mean to, so go away.”

Azazel knew better than to move. Not that Dean could do anything to him, but still. “Dean, I feel like it’s my responsibility to tell you something about Castiel. He’s worse than I am. I mean, truly. If he had his full set of powers, he would be an entirely different person. See, he’s human now for whatever reason, but I fully intend to change that, and you see, Dean,” Azazel lowered his voice, “angels are cruel. They only care about orders and rules. They have no emotion.”

Dean took a step back. “Cas is an angel?”

“Oh, heavens, no. You think I’d come anywhere near him if he was? But Castiel’s particular species is very similar to angels, at least in that respect.”

Dean’s breathing was coming in short, heavy breaths. “What is he, then?”

“Others like him were the spawn, not of Satan, but of humans, and they ruined the Earth. Destroying them was the purpose of the flood. They burned villages, murdered and raped countless people, drank to excess, and were basically just assholes. That’s the kind of man you’ve gone and fallen in love with.”

Dean shook his head. “You're wrong. Cas isn’t anything like that.”

“Maybe not now. No, now he’s too much of a creampuff to be of any use to anyone, but there are steps that can be taken that will turn him into a _monster,_ Dean. And there’s no coming back from that.”

“You're a liar.”

“Am I, Dean? You see, angels are rigid, cruel, unfeeling, but they are good. They fight on your side without you even realizing it, but humans are a swinging pendulum. Some are good, some are evil, some don’t do anything to put them in either category, but if you mix the two species, you have a very confused child. They don’t feel, they have a tendency to do whatever they’re told, regardless of whether it’s good or bad. They have no conscience, it gets cancelled out in the warring combination of grace and soul. But see, Dean, here is the difference between angels and Nephilim: angels do not want. Humans do, and if you have a being with the power of angels and the desire of humans, you have an unstoppable monster. I’m talking God is in a room with me and your boyfriend and he has two bullets in his gun, he shoots Castiel twice.”

“No,” Dean choked out, tears in his eyes. “Cas has a conscience.”

“Not for long, he won’t”

Dean shook his head. “No.”

Azazel shrugged. “Denial is the first stage of grief, or so I’ve heard. Goodbye, Dean. Enjoy your time with your boyfriend while you can.” Dean blinked, and the Demon was gone. Dean let the piece of paper flutter to the ground, and he sat on the bed opposite Castiel. _Nephilim._ Dean didn’t exactly know what that meant, but he would be sure to research it later. Two things were certain, he couldn’t tell anyone about the Demon’s visit, and Castiel could not agree to the deal. Dean didn’t care what else Azazel could come up with to offer him, there was no way in Hell Dean would let him go.

 

\---*---

 

Sam never returned from taking Jo to the airport. Neither Dean nor Castiel had any sort of clue as to what had happened to him. They called, and Jo was alright, said that Sam had been totally fine and totally normal with her. He just didn’t come back, but they found the Impala on the side of the highway, untouched. Castiel didn’t want to believe to worst. After all, the Demon had said two months, which, of course, was likely a lie, but still. Dean seemed to struggle with believing anything but the worst.

They called everyone they knew, over and over again, but there was just nothing, until Sam called them, a week after he had gone missing. Sam was in Twin Lakes, Colorado, which was luckily only three hours from Denver. Dean had spent every night for the past week sitting on Castiel’s bed, staring at nothing, which was fine because he couldn’t sleep, either. He wasn’t doing a lot of sleeping lately, especially at night.

Sam was staying in room 109 at the motel. When Dean and Castiel got there, the door was unlocked, and Sam was just sitting on the bed, staring into space, much like Dean these past seven nights. “Sam.”

“Hey, Dean. Cas.”

The older men got a better look at Sam once they were closer. “Are you bleeding?”

“I tried to wash it off.” Sam did not sound angry or confused or glad at all, just depressed. It was scaring Castiel. There was not only blood on Sam’s knuckles, but all down the front of his shirt. Castiel put his hand to his mouth. Dean appeared to be on the verge of freaking out. “I don’t think it’s my blood,” Sam assured them.

Castiel looked up sharply. “How can you not be sure?”

“Whose is it?”

“I don’t know.” Sam sounded wholly unconcerned.

Dean gave his brother a bewildered look. “Sam, what the hell happened?”

“Dean… I don’t remember anything.”

 

\---*---

 

Castiel was sent to retrieve fresh clothes for Sam, an expedition that took far too long and by the time he got home, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and fall asleep, and that was exactly what he did, texting Dean to let him know. He was so exhausted that his sleep was free of nightmares, thankfully.

He was awoken the next morning by his cell phone ringing. It was all Castiel could do to answer it. “What?” he snapped. He was _tired._

_“Hey, Cas, it’s me.”_

“I have caller I.D., Dean.”

_“God, I hate you in the morning. I’m not even using my phone. So, recap, Sam, our quiet, studious, respectful pacifist, second in nerdom only to you, chugged a bottle of whiskey, threw it at a guy’s head, smoked two packs of menthols, left without paying for anything, and then killed a guy, a hunter, the other day. Oh yeah, also, last night he asked me to kill him, and then when I didn’t, he knocked me out and then stole my car.”_

Castiel was instantly alert. “Why would he do that?”

“Which part, the murder part? Absolutely no reason. So, if you could- how the hell did you get to Denver, anyway?”

“I stole a car.”

“Awesome. So, if you could just mosey on back down here and pick me up, I tracked Sam’s phone to Duluth, Minnesota.”

Castiel fell out of bed at this point. Thankfully, Dean didn’t seem to notice. “Call Jo, she works there, I’m on my way.” Castiel hung up and grabbed everything he saw that they might need before dumping everything in the trunk of his stolen Jeep and hot wiring it. He sped all the way to Twin Lakes, cutting down his travel time very little. Dean was outside waiting for him, and he jumped in as soon as he saw Castiel. “I called Jo, she didn’t pick up, surprise, surprise. I think she’s still a little mad at me for the whole thing with my dad and her dad.”

“Well, Sam took her to the airport last week, they seemed fine.”

“I bet she only let him because she was worried about you and your sleeping schedule. Here, give me your phone.” Jo didn’t pick up then, either, and Castiel had to remind Dean that she worked in a bar, and it would be busy this time of day. Dean sighed, frustrated. “God, this is crazy. What the fuck is wrong with Sam?”

“I don’t know any more than you do, Dean.”

Dean did not respond. Then, a few minutes later, “You're a shit driver, Cas, get out of the car.”

Castiel glared at him. “Dean, I know you're upset, but there’s no reason to be _rude._ ”

“Get out of the car.”

Castiel glared again but pulled over, a little violently. “We’re stopping for coffee.”

“Cas, are you actually fucking with me right now?”

“Dean, I will pull this car into a ditch, do not test me.”

Dean shook his head. “I _really_ hate you in the mornings.”

“It’s five o’clock.”

“Then I just hate you without coffee. You're not allowed to not have coffee when you wake up anymore, okay?”

“I am agreeable to that.”

After Castiel got his coffee, the ride was silent yet charged. Dean was going twenty miles above the speed limit, something Castiel would normally chide him about, but couldn’t bring himself to at the point. Jo could be in danger, danger from _Sam._ The idea was ludicrous, but Castiel forced himself to accept it.

The closer they got to the bar where Jo worked, the more afraid Castiel became. He checked his pistol twice, making sure he was armed. Dean’s jaw was working. It was near one in the morning. Dean skidded to a stop in front of the bar, not bothering to stop the car. No one was on the street. Dean stopped Castiel before they walked inside. “Hey. Don’t shoot unless you absolutely have to, okay?”

“Of course not. Let’s go.” Dean nodded at him and kicked the door down , and they rushed in, guns at the ready. All Castiel saw was Jo, tied to a pole with a gag in her mouth. He was immediately filled with rage, and he forced himself to look at Sam.

“I begged you to stop me, Dean!” Sam accused.

“Put the knife down, dammit,” Dean ordered.

Sam looked crazed, absolutely out of his mind. “I told you, I can’t fight it! My head feels like it’s on fire, alright? Dean, kill me, or I’m gonna kill her.”

Castiel lowered his gun. “Dean, don’t.” Jo made a noise of protest. “If you shoot him, Sam will die, but this demon will continue to inhabit his body and kill us all.”

The dropped the crazed look and lowered the knife. “Wow, Castiel, I’m impressed. It would’ve been really awkward if this really was just Sam, huh?” Dean lowered his gun and glared. He advanced on them. “What are you gonna do, boys? Got a plan?”

Dean grinned and reached in his jacket pocket, pulling out a flask of holy water. He splashed it in the demon’s face, over and over until Sam ran and jumped out the window. Dean followed immediately after, leaving Castiel to deal with Jo. He cut her loose from her bonds using the knife the demon had left behind. “He was possessed?”

“It appears so. You think Sam would be capable of something like this?”

“No, no, of course not, it’s just… demons lie, right?” Jo’s brown eyes were filled to the brim with pain and anger.

Castiel patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. “Only when it benefits them, or they want to hurt you. Whatever… it said, I wouldn’t believe a word, even if it sounded true. You can never know.”

Jo smirked a little. “He said that my crush on Dean was hopeless because he’s in love with you.”

Castiel smiled sadly. “See? All lies.”

“Cas…”

“Are you okay?” Castiel interrupted.

Jo sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

Castiel pulled out his own flask of holy water. “Just in case.” Jo nodded at him, and then Castiel sat at the bar.

Jo raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to after them?”

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know where they went.”

 

\---*---

 

Dean’s heart was pounding. He hated this, just standing around and waiting for some sign of where the demon could be. They were in a warehouse, cluttered with all sorts of completely random items. “So, who are you?” He demanded of the demon possessing his little brother.

“I got lots of names,” was all the demon offered.

Dean crept around a corner, pressing himself against a wall. “You’ve been in Sam since he disappeared, haven’t you?”

“Should have seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but found himself at a crossroads in the maze of the warehouse. “Why didn’t you kill me? You had a dozen chances.” Dean heard a thud to his left, so he went right. Two could play at that game.

“No, that would have been too easy. Where’s the fun in that? See, this was a test. I wanted to see if I could push you far enough to waste Sam. I should have known you wouldn’t have the sack. Then again, maybe if I’d gone after _Castiel…_ anyway, fun’s over now.”

Mention of Cas made rage swell up in Dean’s chest, but he shoved it down. “Well, I hope you got your kicks, ‘cuz you're gonna pay Hell for this, I’m gonna make sure of that. Also, I don’t think you could take Cas. He’d kick your ass.” Dean sincerely hoped Cas wasn’t listening, he’d never hear the end of it.

“How? You can’t hurt me- not without hurting your little brother.” Dean crouched beside a stack of crates. He knew the demon was right, but Cas and Jo were too much to risk. If it came down to it, he knew his choice.

He also knew what he’d do to himself afterwards.

The demon was still talking. “See, Dean, I think you're going to die- you and every other hunter I can find, including your boyfriend and your fangirl in there.” Dean put his gun away, trading it for his holy water. “One look at Sam’s dewy, sensitive eyes, and they’ll let me right in their door.” Dean was almost sure he had him when he heard a door a little in front of him open and then close, and Sam walk out. Dean rushed through the door and scanned the area for any sign of the giant demon. Nothing. He wasn’t on the docks, either.

Frowning, Dean peered into the water, trying to see if there was any ripples. Then he heard footsteps behind him, and he realized his mistake.

The demon fired, and Dean felt the bullet pierce his skin and stop halfway through. Dean fell backwards into the water, and he couldn’t bring himself back up so he just went down, down, down....

\---*---

 

Castiel heard the gunshot and stood immediately, looking out the window. The demon was walking away from something, and Dean was nowhere to be seen. Castiel bit his lip. Then he sighed. “Jo, do you have any flashlights?”

Jo nodded and disappeared momentarily, returning with two flashlights. “You know I am going with you, right?”

Castiel smiled, taking one of the flashlights. “I wasn’t going to suggest otherwise.”

Castiel led Jo to the window, where he jumped out first and waited for Jo to follow. She landed in a crouch, much better than Castiel was expecting, and they set off. They checked opposite ends of the warehouse first, scouring the entire thing while Jo called Dean’s cell.

They met up at the end of the warehouse, by the docks, both shaking their heads. Jo sighed and called Dean again. Castiel held out an arm to stop her when he heard Dean’s ringtone not ten feet away. Jo looked around, and Castiel looked down. On a ramp leading to the ocean, Dean Winchester was dead or unconscious and Castiel jumped down, slipping a little on the wet wood. He turned his flashlight off. Jo joined him, shining her own over Dean’s body.

Castiel knelt down beside his friend and turned him so he was laying on his back. “Dean?” No answer.

“Dean!” Jo practically screamed, making both hunters jump. Dean was coughing and shivering and groaning in pain. Castiel helped him sit up and let him lean against his chest.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean demanded.

“He disappeared, we didn’t see where. Can you stand?” Dean nodded and Castiel helped him, gripping Dean’s left hand with his own and his right wrapped around Dean’s waist. Jo raised an eyebrow at him, and Castiel kicked her. Dean slung his good arm around Castiel’s shoulder, and Jo lit the way back to the warmth and safety of the bar.

Jo was much better at dressing wounds than Castiel, so he let her take care of Dean while he sat on the windowsill, watching.

Dean was groaning in pain as Jo dug the bullet out of his flesh. Jo told him several times to stop whining and not to be a baby. “Alright, got it, got it.” Jo dropped the bullet in a shot of water, and Dean took a drink from a bottle of whiskey.

“God, you're a butcher,” Dean complained as Jo bandaged his shoulder.

Jo glared at him. “You're welcome.”

Dean sighed. “Alright, are we done?” he demanded.

“No,” Castiel stated, leaning against the wall with one shoulder.

“Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can’t help Sam if you're bleeding to death,” Jo reminded him irritably. “Cas,” she called, “how did you know he was possessed?”

Castiel scoffed. “If Sam truly wanted to die, he’s more than capable of doing it himself, rather than threatening you to make Dean do it.”

“How does that equal possessed?”

Castiel shrugged. “I was just guessing. It seemed fitting, after our recent encounter with demons.”

Jo nodded, then sighed. “Do you have any idea where he’s headed to next?”

Dean took another sip of whiskey. “So far, he’s been going after the nearest hunter, so, the closest one I know is in South Dakota.”

“Bobby?” Jo and Castiel guessed together.

“Yeah.”

Jo nodded. “Okay, good, I’m done, let’s go.”

Castiel hopped from his windowsill. “Jo, you're staying here. Your mother will kill me if anything happens to you.”

Jo glared at him. “The hell I’m not, I’m part of this now, who cares about my mother?”

Castiel sighed. “I do, and I care about you as well, and I already have to make sure Dean doesn’t get his crippled self killed.” Dean threw a rag at him. “I can’t look out for you, too, Jo, please.”

Jo glared some but sighed in agreement. She handed Dean a bottle of pills. “For the pain.”

“Thanks.”

Castiel kissed Jo on the forehead. “Thank you for everything, Jo, we’ll call you when Sam is okay.”

She nodded sadly. “Bye, Castiel. Stay safe.”

Castiel nodded and they were gone, Dean holding his shoulder. “I’m driving.”

Dean glared at him. “Duh. My crippled self is taking a nap.”

“Your crippled self is calling Bobby.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, right, that.”

Bobby did not pick up the first time, or the second time, or the fifth time they called. They needn’t have worried, though, as when they arrived, the demon was bound and trapped.

“Jesus Christ, Bobby, how the hell did you do that?” Dean commented.

Bobby shrugged. “I’m not an idjit, that’s how.”

Castiel smirked. Dean just shook his head and approached his sleeping demon brother, slapping him awake. The demon stared at them all creepily, then glanced up at the Key of Solomon trapping him. He smiled and addressed Dean. “Back from the dead. Getting to be a pretty regular thing for you, isn’t it? Like a cockroach.”

Dean did not appear to be in the mood for this. “How bout I smack that smartass right out of your mouth?”

“Oh, careful now. Wouldn’t want to bruise this fine packaging,” the demon taunted.

“Oh, don’t worry, this isn’t gonna hurt Sam much.” Castiel handed Dean the bucket of holy water. “You, on the other hand…” Dean splashed it on Sam’s chest, and the demon screamed. “Feel like talking now?”

“Sam’s still my meat puppet,” the demon reminded them. “I’ll make him bite off his tongue.”

“No, you won’t be in him long enough. Cas?” Castiel stepped forward and began his exorcism, closing his eyes. He paced back and forth behind Sam. “See, whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up, you're not getting sam, and you're not getting Cas. You understand me?” Castiel did not falter in his exorcism, but he did feel a guilty twist in his stomach. “‘Cuz I’m gonna kill every one of you first.”

Sam stopped sounding pained and started laughing. Castiel paused. “That’s what you think this is about? The master plan? I don’t give a rat’s ass about the master plan. After all, Azazel did say two months, right Castiel?” Castiel did not respond. Dean nodded at him, and he continued his exorcism. The demon didn’t even move. “Oops. Doesn’t seem to be working.” Castiel stopped again, glaring. “See, I learned a few new tricks.” Sam started speaking Latin as well, and the house started to shake. Papers started flying, the fire burning more out of control, and everything was falling.

“This isn’t going how I pictured, Cas, what’s going on?”

“How should I know?”

Bobby strode across the room and inspected Sam. He ripped his sleeve away to reveal a burn scar on Sam’s arm in the shape of a _Q._ “It’s a binding link,” Bobby determined. At the boys’ confused looks, he rolled his eyes. “It’s like a lock, it’s locked itself inside Sam’s body!”

“What the hell do we do?”

“I don’t know!”

“Change the symbol!” Castiel suggested.

Bobby looked around for something to use, and Sam continued chanting, shaking the house. It started shaking more violently, and Castiel stumbled into Dean, who hissed in pain as he hit his shoulder.

The ceiling cracked, and the demon was free. The house stopped shaking. Dean righted Castiel, his hands on his shoulders, but as soon as he saw his brother standing, he shoved Castiel again, behind him, but it did not good as all of them were thrown against a wall. Dean dropped his holy water, and Castiel moved to grab it, but he suddenly found himself unable to move from the wall. Dean was grasping at his shoulder.

The demon advanced on him. Castiel tried to move, as he had been able to do when Azazel had confronted them in John Winchester’s body, but with the effort came a splitting headache that distracted him from what was going on, and he quickly stopped trying to move. “You know,” the demon was saying, “when people wanna describe the worst possible thing… they say it’s like Hell?” Sam punched Dean in the face, grabbing his shirt. “Well, there’s a reason for that. Hell is like, uh…” He punched Dean again. “Well, it’s like Hell, even for demons.” Another punch. “It’s a prison made of bone and flesh and blood and fear.” Dean was gasping in pain, and the hits kept coming. “And you sent me back there.”

“Meg,” Dean realized, grimacing. Castiel groaned internally. Leaving Jo’s body must have been a trick that she played on them. She must have laid dormant until it was just her and Sam, and then she switched.

“No,” Castiel’s father’s killer said with one of his closest friend’s voice, “not anymore. Now I’m Sam.” He punched Dean once more, and then dug his thumb into his bullet wound. Dean screamed quietly, and Castiel decided he didn’t care about the headache anymore. He shut the world out and concentrated, just on his arm, his leg, anything, willing his body to _move._

Suddenly control flooded into Castiel’s body, and he knew if he wanted he could move, but he waited for the demon to be more distracted. “You couldn’t save your dad, and deep down, you know you can’t save your brother, and you can’t save  Castiel from making his deal. They all would’ve been better off without you.”

Castiel slowly and carefully planted his hands on the ground at his side, putting all of his weight on them. He took a deep breath and lifted his legs into the air, swinging them around to knock Sam/Meg off of Dean. Dean gasped in relief, and reached for the holy water. Bobby, who had been slowly creeping up behind the demon with a burning fire poker in hand, grabbed Sam’s arm and pressed his weapon against the lock, ruining it. The demon screamed in pain and smoked out of Sam’s body, knowing it was beaten.

Sam collapsed to the ground. Castiel crawled to his side. “Sam?”

The younger boy opened his eyes, looking dazed. “What- _ow,_ what-?” Sam looked around, seeing Castiel’s worried expression, Bobby standing over him with a fire poker, and his brother, beaten and in pain. “...Did I miss anything?”

Dean punched him in the face and then fell back against the ground, groaning. Castiel glared at him. “Really?”

“Shut up.”

Castiel shook his head. “Don’t worry, Sam, that wasn’t meant for you.”

Sam, if possible, looked even more confused. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s a long story. Bobby, do you mind checking him and tending to his wounds?” Bobby nodded and returned the fire poker to its rightful place. Castiel heaved himself onto his knees and poked at Dean’s thigh. “Dean, are you okay?”

Dean rolled over to face Castiel. “Do I look okay to you?”

Castiel glared at him but helped him up, sitting him down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He wet a rag and cleaned the blood off his face and then retrieved an ice pack from Bobby’s freezer. Castiel tugged at Dean’s jacket sleeve. “Off.”

“Gee, Cas, at least buy me dinner first,” Dean teased and he slid his wounded shoulder out of his rather heavy coat.

“I have bought you dinner, many times. In fact, I think you’ve eaten a total of five bags of my chicken nuggets.”

“Oh, like you were going to eat them.”

“I like chicken nuggets.” Castiel peeled off the blood-soaked bandage Jo had applied earlier that night, tossing it in the trash. He wet a paper towel and reached under the sink for another gauze pad and across the table for tape. “Are you going to tell Sam the truth?” Castiel asked, pulling up a chair so he could dress he gunshot wound. He cleaned the blood off his shoulder with the paper towel before drying his skin to gently lay the bandage on the wound. He framed it with tape before settling his hands in his lap and waiting for Dean’s answer.

“The truth, I guess. He might just remember anyway and be pissed at me, so why not just come out with it now?”

Castiel nodded. “Good. Keeping things to yourself never seems to end well with us.” Castiel thought fleetingly of the secret he and Sam were keeping from Dean, but ultimately decided that it was different. He _hadn’t_ kept it to himself, Sam knew what could happen to him. It was just Dean who didn’t know, and that was for the good of all of them.

Dean didn’t look at him. “Yeah, maybe. Some things people just don’t need to know, though.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Dean?”

Dean glanced at Castiel, briefly. “Cas, I can’t-”

Sam came in, still looking confused. “Alright, are you guys ready to tell me this ‘long story’ yet?”

Dean sighed but looked grateful for the interruption. “Yeah, Sam, sit down. Where’s Bobby?”

“Looking for extra sheets. Said we’d have to sleep at some point, and he didn’t want our dirty asses messing up his couch.”

Castiel smiled and sat back to listen to Dean’s entire story. Half an hour later, both brothers were just sitting and stewing in their guilt while Castiel cleaned his pistol.

Bobby came back at some point, phone in hand, looking somber. Sam frowned. “What is it, Bobby?”

“You boys ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wandell?”

Castiel glanced at Sam at the mention of the man he had killed. Of course, Sam _hadn’t_ killed him, but others might not see it that way. Dean gasped near silently. “Why do you ask?”

“Just heard from a friend- Wandell’s dead, murdered in his own house.” Sam looked down in shame. “You wouldn’t know anything about that.” It was almost a challenge, the way Bobby said that, and Castiel felt that he knew, knew it was Sam that could and would be blamed.

Dean lifted his chin in acceptance of the challenge. “No, sir. Never heard of the guy.”

“Dean,” Sam reprimanded. Castiel kicked Sam under the table lightly.

“Good,” Bobby said, surprising them. “Keep it that way. Wandell’s buddies are looking for someone or something to string up. They’re not gonna slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I’m saying?”

Bobby was truly smarter than any of them gave him credit for, Castiel figured. That, or he’d eavesdropped on their conversation. To be honest, it was probably both.

Dean nodded in understanding. “We better hit the road.” Dean stood, Sam and Castiel followed his lead. “If, uh, you can remember where we parked the car, Sam.”

Bobby held out his hand to Castiel. “Here, take these.” He dropped three identical charms in his palm. “They’re charms. They’ll fend off possession.” Castiel examined the charm. It was nothing extraordinary, just a star encircled in a sun, but Castiel believed its power. His father had had a tattoo on his chest exactly like it. He made the mental note to suggest it to the Winchesters later. “That demon’s still out there. This will stop it from getting back up in you.”

Dean snorted. “That sounds vaguely dirty, but, uh, thanks.”

“You're welcome. You boys be careful, now.”

Sam nodded. “You too.”

They all turned to go, one by one. After leaving the room, Castiel poked his head back in the door. “Bobby, there’s a stolen white Jeep parked outside that you can do whatever you please with.”

Bobby shrugged. “I suppose it could come in handy. Hey, Castiel.”

“Yes?”

“Dean told me about what you're thinking about doing, and I just wanna tell you that if you do it, those boys will go all over hell and creation to bring you back, you know. You won’t be doing them a favor.”

Castiel nodded, his eyes downcast. “I don’t know, Bobby. Thank you, though, for everything.”

“Not a problem, kid. Take care.”

Castiel waved goodbye and joined the Winchesters at the Impala. “Forget something?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, just… getting some advice.”

Dean nodded knowingly. “You gonna take it?”

Castiel said nothing, just studied Dean’s eyes and got in the car. Sam and Dean joined him, and none of them said anything, though they were all thinking the same sort of things. As they drove away, Dean looked to his brother. “You okay? Sam? ...Is that you in there?”

Sam was silent for a moment. “I was awake for some of it.” Castiel winced. He could think of nothing worse than watching, trapped in his own body while someone else took control and did horrible things with his hands, his voice, his mind. “I watched myself kill Wandell with my own two hands. I saw the light go out in his eyes.” Castiel said nothing, just stared at the roof of the car. The light in their eyes. That, Castiel decided, was the true difference between killing a human and a monster. Humans had that light, always, the window to their souls.

“That must have been awful,” Dean summed up.

“That’s not my point. I almost carved up Jo, too. But no matter what I did, you wouldn’t shoot.” Castiel remembered Dean telling him that Sam had begged him to kill him, but that was Meg, and this was truly Sam.

“It was the right move, Sam, it wasn’t you,” Dean defended.

“Yeah, this time. What about next time? Cas, are you gonna do it?”

Castiel said nothing still. Of course he wasn’t going to kill Sam. He would never have any reason to.

Dean took a deep breath. “Sam, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn’t save you. Now, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna save you.”

Castiel thought of what the Demon had told him, how Dean was meant to be the beginning of the end of the world. If there was one circumstance that would cause Dean Winchester to end the world, it would be the death of his brother.

If that was it, then Castiel would just have to do everything in his power to make sure Sam Winchester would live.

Dean yawned. “Cas, we headin’ home?”

Home. Castiel liked that Dean thought of Denver as his home. “Yes, Dean.” As Sam curled up in the front seat to sleep and Dean hummed along to whatever song was on the radio, though, Castiel thought that home could be more than one place, more than one feeling. Home was where Castiel felt he belonged, and there was nowhere he fit better than with the Winchesters.

 

\---*---

 

Everything seemed to be peaceful, for the moment. There were no hunts to go on, no leads to follow, and the Winchesters and Castiel were taking a day off. They were all seated on the couch, Dean leaning against one arm rest, his feet in Castiel’s lap, knees drawn up to his chest, Castiel’s head resting on Dean’s knee, Sam using Dean’s socked foot as a pillow, his long legs dangling off the other armrest. Sam was reading Castiel’s tattered copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_ _._ Dean was reading _Cat’s Cradle_. Castiel was reading Dr. Seuss books, upon Dean’s request. It was a rare, lazy, peaceful day.

Until Sam got a headache. A headache that turned into a vision.

As soon as Sam sat up, holding his head, Dean and Castiel closed their books and sat up as well. They just waited for it to be over.

When Sam seemed to be okay, Dean stood. “What was it? Who died?”

Sam looked up at his big brother with fearful eyes. “Cas.”

Castiel stood as well. “What?”

Sam remained sitting, though he rotated himself so that he was sitting like normal on the couch, with his elbows braced on his knees. “I don’t know. It was dark, nighttime, I think, maybe you were outside, and you were holding a _sword,_ but it didn’t look like a real sword. It was kind of triangular, I guess, and it was all silver and was more like a long dagger. Anyway, you were walking by yourself, and then you started coughing up blood. I don’t know what was happening, but you kept coughing and choking on your own blood until something started attacking you, I don’t know what, and it just… seemed like you weren’t fighting back.” Sam looked up at the older men, tears shining in his eyes. “But you're not gonna die, right? I mean, now that we know what’s gonna happen-”

Castiel sat down next to Sam, partly to comfort him and partly because he was in shock. Dean knelt in front of both of them, a hand on each of their knees. “Listen. Cas is not going to die, okay? We just have to do everything that’s not in the vision. Like, Sam, what was Cas wearing in this dream?”

“I don’t know, I don’t remember, it was dark-”

“Okay then, what was he not wearing? Was there a trenchcoat?”

“Yes! He was definitely wearing the trenchcoat!” Sam exclaimed.

Dean turned to Castiel. “No trenchcoat for you, Cas, buddy, sorry.”

“I’d prefer not dying, shockingly enough.”

“Ha-ha. Do you own a sword?”

“I don’t, actually.”

Dean made a face at him “Dude, I’m actually kind of disappointed. You have all other kinds of cool shit, but not a sword?”

“Dean.”

“Right! So, no trenchcoat, you're not even allowed to look at a sword, and no walking around by yourself in the dark. In fact, don’t walk around by yourself at all.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, Dean.”

Dean stared at him incredulously. “Sam just watched you _die,_ Cas. You’re under house arrest.”

Castiel huffed but agreed, even when Dean insisted on sleeping in his bed that night.

“C’mon, Cas, I just wanna make sure you don’t do anything dumb.”

Castiel hesitated, remembering suddenly the kiss they had shared in a storage room in a doctor’s office of a disease-ridden town. Though they had done it before, sharing a bed was an intimacy Castiel wasn’t sure he could allow himself, not after everything was out in the open between them.

But Castiel allowed it, and he fell asleep quickly with Dean’s warmth seeping across the sheets...

 

\---*---

 

In Castiel’s nightmare, he was wearing his trenchcoat, which, in the real world, Dean had hidden somewhere Castiel would never find it. He was wearing a suit underneath, with a blue tie. He was in a blizzard, the snow circling around and around him, never knocking him down or lifting him up. He was simply there. He vaguely heard wolves howling, and he was cold. Very cold. Castiel sank to his knees, shivering, his hands turning blue and his fingers beginning to fall off. There was no blood, as it was all frozen.

And then Castiel woke up. Dean was leaning over him, one hand on his shoulder and one on his waist. “Cas?”

“Dean?”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, but did not move away. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Castiel frowned. “It was just a nightmare, Dean.”

Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand and pressed it to Castiel’s face. It was cold as ice. Castiel jumped back. “Yeah. I swear you shouldn’t be alive at these temperatures. What was the nightmare about?”

Castiel didn’t want to say, in case Dean got too worried. It was probably just a coincidence. He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Dean huffed. “Alright, come here.” Castiel obliged, and Dean pressed his back to his front, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s middle, instantly warming him. Castiel felt dangerously comfortable, tucked into Dean’s body, so warm. He almost let himself run with his instincts, kiss Dean until he was stupid, but he refrained.“Not a word. I just don’t want you to die of hypothermia.”

Castiel nodded, swallowing. “Understood.”

 

\---*---

 

Castiel woke much closer to Dean than he probably had any right to be. He quickly moved away and out of bed. He was walking a dangerous line. He trudged into the kitchen, where Sam was already sipping a mug of coffee. “Hey, Cas. Everything alright?”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary, other than me being very cold,” Castiel stated. Sam looked at him with concern, but then decided he was, in fact, fine.

“Good.”

Castiel was in the midst of making his own coffee when Dean shuffled in, hair matted and eyes bleary. Sam asked Dean the same thing he’d asked Castiel, and Dean gave Sam roughly the same answer.

Sam sighed. “The thing is, there’s still nothing. No hunts, nothing that we could do that means Cas needs a _sword._ ”

“How long is the gap between the vision and the actual occurrence, on average?” Castiel inquired.

“A few days, I guess.”

Castiel nodded. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder. “Cas, you're gonna be fine, okay? I won’t- you’ll be fine.”

Castiel nodded again. “I will.”

Dean, true to his word, stuck to Castiel like glue the whole day. He even stood outside the bathroom door when Castiel had to go. He was basically Castiel’s bodyguard from nothing the whole day, as nothing happened the whole day. Castiel tried to go about his regular business, Sam researched about what could possibly want to kill Castiel, and Dean shadowed Castiel.

Once again, nothing happened until that night. This time, Castiel was in a white room, all alone, wearing his trenchcoat and the suit with the blue tie. There was nothing in the room but Castiel.

He took a step forward. Then two. On his sixth step, he heard something behind him, and he whirled around.

It was a girl. She was familiar, but a complete stranger at the same time. She wore a black tank top, revealing muscled arms, littered with scars. Hunting scars. She also wore light skinny jeans with black combat boots. She looked like a hunter. Her long brown hair fell to her waist in soft waves, and Castiel could see the shades of blue in her eyes from ten feet away. He could have sworn he knew her from somewhere.

The girl just stared at Castiel with sad eyes and waved. She drew a knife from her back pocket and touched the tip of it to her wrist. Castiel tried to rush forward and stop her, but the more steps he took towards her, the more steps she took backwards. She sliced her wrist, and Castiel felt the sting on his own skin, as if it had been done to him. He looked down and saw an identical cut as the one the girl had just made.

She moved the knife to her other wrist, and slashed that one as well. Sure enough, when Castiel looked down, his own wrists were bleeding as freely as the girl’s.

The knife clattered to the ground. The girl took a deep breath and began to paint the air in front of her.

 _C-A-S-T-I-E-L._ All too familiar a sequence of letters, all too familiar painted in blood.

Castiel stumbled backwards. The girl watched him with her big blue eyes, now filled with tears. He could see her grow visibly paler. “Goodbye, Castiel.” Her voice was thick with tears, and Castiel didn’t understand. Where was she going? Where was _he_ going? Castiel tried to stop her, but she was fading and fading away into nothing.

 

\---*---

 

“Cas! Castiel!” Castiel once again woke to Dean Winchester hovering over him, but this time Dean had his hands wrapped around Castiel’s wrists, holding them above his head.

“What?”

“What? What do you mean, what? Cas, do you want to explain why the _hell_ you're trying to kill yourself?” Dean’s eyes were full of rage, as were Sam’s, over his shoulder.

Castiel frowned at him. “What? I’m not-” Castiel’s eyes widened and he yanked his wrists from Dean’s grasp. They were bleeding profusely, just as they had been in the dream. Castiel’s breath came short and fast. “There was a girl, in my dream, and when she slit her wrists, mine were cut as well. But that was a dream, it shouldn’t affect real life.” Dean held his wrists again, putting pressure on the source of the blood.

“Okay. We need to take care of this first.” Dean still looked unbearably angry, and Castiel could hardly look him in they eye as Dean applied extraordinarily tight bandages to his wrists. Once they were bandaged as well as they could manage, Dean forced Castiel to look at him. “Cas.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“I know, it’s not your fault, but…” Dean looked away for a moment, “do you have any idea how scared I was? I mean… what would we do without you?”

Castiel smiled weakly. “I imagine you would handle yourselves just fine.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. You know I’m not just talking about this, right?”

Castiel looked down. “My deal with Azazel.”

“Cas, you just can’t, okay? I need you.”

Sam cracked the bathroom door open. “You alright?”

“I’m fine, Sam. Thank you for asking.” Dean was pointedly not looking at Castiel.

“Alright, well, I think I have something on your dream, c’mon.” Dean and Castiel stood and filed out of the room after him. Sam’s laptop was open on the table, and they all crowded around it. “I think you're possessed.”

“Possessed? I am not possessed.”

“I think you are, but you wouldn’t know because it doesn’t take over your body, it takes over the part of your brain that dreams, and it controls your dreams so that whatever happens to you in that dream happens to you in real life. So, in your dream tonight, your wrists started bleeding, and then it happened in real life,” Sam explained.

“So the girl was the monster?” Dean clarified.

“That’s the weird part. The Paventare always appears as a one-eyed creature, sometimes a person, but mostly a wolf. It’s always missing one eye, and the other one is just a socket gushing blood,” Sam corrected.

Castiel frowned. “Then who was she? I’ve never seen her before.”

“I don’t know man, probably just some part of your subconscious,” Sam dismissed, but Castiel felt a pull in his gut that suggested otherwise.

He shook it off. “Does the Paventare create the dreams?”

“No, but it will if nothing in your dreams kills you,” Sam read off the computer screen.

Dean nodded. “Okay, then the answer’s simple- don’t sleep.”

“I’ll die.”

Dean sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Isn’t there some kind of spell or something that stops you from having any dreams?”

“The Paventare would just create one.”

Dean threw his arms in the air. “Well is there any way to fight this thing?”

Sam looked back to his computer. “I guess you’d have to figure out a way to use your subconscious, control your dream.”

“Believe me, Sam, if I could control my dreams they would be very different.”

Dean sat in the chair next to Sam. “Then what can we do?”

Sam shrugged. “We keep looking, and Cas- you can’t sleep.”

Castiel sighed but nodded. “As long as I can.”

Dean huffed. “Should we hit the books too?”

Castiel nodded. “The word _paventare_ is Italian, so I suppose we should start there.”

“Italy?”

Castiel glared at him.

 

\---*---

 

They might have been better off in Italy. At this rate, they would go through every book in Castiel’s rather expansive library before they found anything, if they did find anything.

It had been two days since Castiel had slept, and even then only for a very short period. Sam and Dean took frequent naps, never more than two hours, but Castiel could not.

Dean shut the book currently in front of him with a sigh. “Okay, you said _paventare_ is Italian, but what does it mean?”

Castiel yawned. “Fear. Terror. As in nightmares.”

Dean sighed. “Well that’s fucking useless.”

“If I thought it was of import, I would have shared it earlier.” Castiel had been, understandably, crabby recently.

Dean said nothing, just stood from the table to stretch. Sam was not paying attention to the whole encounter. Castiel would have thought he was asleep if he didn’t keep turning the page.

Castiel figured there could be no harm in just laying his head down on the table for a minute. His burning eyes thanked him when he closed them. He wished he could sleep in his bed…

Castiel drifted off, oblivious to Sam’s jump and Dean shouting his name.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel still felt tired in his nightmare. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be well rested. Castiel looked around. He was in a field at night, once again wearing his suit and trenchcoat. He vaguely recognized it as the scene Sam had described from his vision, the scene of his death.

He would really love the sword.

And sure enough, as soon as he thought it, it was there. Castiel lifted it from the ground. It was exactly as Sam had described it, long and silver and better equipped for stabbing than slicing. Castiel rotated it in his palm. It was perfect for him.

Castiel took a deep breath and started walking forward. He knew in his mind what was about to happen to him, and was at peace, but his heart was beating at an above average rate. As he walked, he whispered his goodbyes under his breath. Maybe someone could hear him.

Castiel had too many regrets to apologize for. Leaving his father. Cutting off his friends. Not being able to take revenge on Meg or the Demon.

Dean.

None of it mattered now.

Castiel coughed, and true to Sam’s vision, he coughed blood. He continued coughing blood until he fell to his knees. He tried to say something, but the only thing coming out of his mouth was blood, and blood, and blood. Castiel was painted in it.

Suddenly, he was pushed backwards into the grass, and pinning Castiel to the ground was a large, black wolf, with one vividly red eye and one bleeding eye socket. Its claws were digging into Castiel’s shoulder, but not enough to break skin. Castiel just stared up at it.

What was he supposed to do? This was his death, but he was so tired…

The wolf lifted a paw and slashed it across his face. Castiel barely felt anything. He was sure he was dying. The world kept swimming in and out of blackness.

The wolf- the Paventare- kept slashing at him, and Castiel knew that soon he would be out of blood to spare, or the monster would hit something important.

_What would we do without you?_

Dean’s words echoed through Castiel, ripping through his very being just as the wolf ripped through his chest.

Could he leave them?

_You're good for Dean. Bring out the best in him and all that._

Castiel knew that Sam felt personally responsible for every death he saw but didn’t stop. This would destroy him, maybe even more than his actions as a vessel for Meg did.

_Cas’ll take care of me._

How could Castiel take care of Dean if he was dead? How could Castiel do anything if he was dead? He wouldn’t be able to save the Winchesters from what the Demon insisted were their destinies.

Castiel did not want to die, but he was already more than halfway there. He gripped the sword at his side, his only hope.

_I really don’t want to do this without you._

It really just wasn’t fair for Cas to sit at Dean’s bedside and ask him to fight, to live, if Castiel couldn’t even return the favor himself. Although it might already be too late, Castiel raised his arm and plunged his sword into the Paventare’s working eye. The wolf yelped and scrambled off Castiel, who rose unsteadily to his knees.

The world went black for several seconds. Castiel thought it was over, but then he saw the wolf once more and plunged his blade into its throat.

Castiel dropped his sword, his body falling with it.

He was sure he was too late.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel did not wake for two days. His body needed to catch up. When he woke up, he expected the room to be empty, but there was Dean, sitting fast asleep in the chair next to his bed. He smiled a little.

Sam walked in the door not two seconds later, impeccable timing, as usual. His face lit up. “Cas! You're awake!” His eyes cut to his brother, and he grew somehow even more excited. “And he’s asleep!”

Castiel tried to sit up, but was immediately dizzy. Sam gently pushed him back to the bed by his shoulder, and Castiel tried not to move any more than necessary. “What happened?” Opening his mouth tugged on the cuts on his cheek.

“Well Cas, once again, you shouldn’t be alive right now,” Sam informed him cheerily. “But you made yet another miracle recovery. Dean was on you about 2 seconds after you went to sleep, but you wouldn’t wake up, and he was freaking out. When you started choking on your own blood he went into fucking doctor mode though, making sure it didn’t back up your throat or anything. Then when… everything else started bleeding, Dean somehow managed to make all the tourniquets and put pressure everywhere and everything. Then, when you just stopped, we took you here. Dean hasn’t moved from that chair since, hasn’t even slept, not even when they were doing the stitching.”

Castiel blushed at that, but tried not to show it. “How many stitches do I have?”

“Most of them healed, actually. There were only a few that really needed to be taken care of, and I told Dean that you would probably do your freaky healing thing, but he wouldn’t have it. Said he wasn’t taking any chances. But you're basically free to go, maybe before you have to give them any billing information…”

Castiel was unsurprised by Sam’s answer. “I thought for certain I was dead.”

Sam nodded. “I know. I… saw that. Cas, what changed what happened in my vision? Why did you start fighting?”

Castiel cut a glance to Dean, which did not go unnoticed by Sam. “I’m not entirely sure.”

Sam nodded, a smirk on his face. “Well, I’m gonna go not tell them you're awake, and here, you can have this coffee. Dean sent me to get some for him, but I think your needs are more important.

Castiel smiled. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As soon as Sam was out the door, Castiel considered waking Dean. He didn’t know how long he had been resting, but it couldn’t have been long.

In the end, the choice wasn’t Castiel’s. Dean jolted awake as his phone started to go off. He sat up, swearing, and turned it off. He didn’t notice Castiel for several seconds. When he did, he beamed. “Cas! Are you okay? How long have you been awake? I’m sorry, I wanted to be here when you-”

“Dean, I’m fine. I’ve only been awake for about ten minutes, and you were, technically here,” Castiel assured him.

Dean sighed. “Are you sure you're okay? Do I need to call the nurse?”

“Dean.”

Dean deflated. “Alright, alright. You didn’t see yourself, man. I swear to God, I could see your ribs. That- I’m never going to stop having nightmares about that, Cas. You wouldn’t wake up, and there was blood everywhere- Sam went back yesterday and cleaned it all up, no worries, but… God, Cas, I thought you were dead. I thought…” Dean broke up and looked Castiel in the eye. “Never do that again.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Now what am I going to do this weekend?”

“Glad to see your sarcasm is still intact.” Dean smiled at Castiel and he thought he _would_ do this again, every day if he got to see that smile.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel was forced to stay home for another week, even though he insisted he was fine, while the Winchesters went on a hunt, but it truly felt like he was there, as each brother called every night ‘to update him,’ but it was really always to complain about what super annoying thing the other had done that day. One night, it was Dean never cleaning up after himself from Sam and Sam being ‘a prissy bitch’ from Dean. Another, it was Dean messing with Sam’s laptop and Sam messing with the Impala, and Castiel honestly couldn’t say he knew what was going on with the case, he was so distracted by their _whining._ Thankfully, at some point they called Bobby and resolved their issues and killed the Trickster, the source.

Then they returned to Denver to pick up Castiel, and they were on the road for a few weeks, freeing a ghost woman from an endless loop of terror and pain, killing a werewolf girl that all the hunters had regrettably come to like, especially Sam, who’d been the one to end her. Then they went to Hollywood, where Dean enjoyed himself immensely.

Then Dean caught wind of a ghost haunting a prison, and that was the day Castiel discovered he was living and working with _madmen._

“You want me to take you to a jewelry store, where you will intentionally be caught by the police, and then you want me to drive away and let you be sent to prison, all because you want to solve a case there?”

Dean nodded. “And then, when our buddy on the inside gets us out, you need to pick us up.”

Castiel just stared at him. “Fine. If the two of you want to be dumbasses and go to jail, _fine._ I’m not helping you except for taking your car.”

“And picking us up.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Castiel did as he was told, dropped the Winchesters off in front of the jewelry store, and he had a week to himself to do what he wished. He chose to sit around and do nothing until the prison guard aiding them contacted him, telling him it was time. He had the car parked outside the southwest corner of the prison, just as he had been told. The Winchesters emerged, laughing and as joyful as ever. Dean grinned at him. “Man, are you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Are you talking to me or the car?”

“Uh, you, obviously, why would I- I don’t talk to my car.”

“Mhm.” Castiel handed over the keys and Dean kissed them. Castiel rolled his eyes. “Is the ghost taken care of?”

“Uh, not quite, we gotta make a stop at the cemetery, and then we’re done, promise.”

Castiel sighed. “How was your stay?”

Sam snorted. “Dean got in, like, four fights.”

Dean started the car just as alarms started going off. “Shut up, it was three, and two of them were for the case.”

“Whatever. Also, Henriksen showed up. I still don’t think he knows anything about you, Cas,” Sam reported. Castiel frowned.

“Henriksen, the FBI agent assigned to find the two of you?”

“The very same.”

“Great.”

Dean hit the gas on the way to the cemetery, as they didn’t want to stay in the area any longer than they had to. They burned the bones of an old prison nurse, who had apparently been extremely cruel, with no interruptions.

“Thought we were screwed before?” Sam commented as they got in the car.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We got to go deep this time,” Dean said obviously.

“Deep, Dean? We should go to Yemen.”

Castiel laughed. “I’m not even wanted and I want to go to Yemen.”

“Yemen? Ooh- I’m- I’m not sure I’m ready to go that deep.”

Sam shook his head at him and they all got in the car. Castiel stretched out in the backseat, content to listen to the brothers’ stories from their stay in prison the whole ride home.

\---*---

 

Clearly the definition of ‘going deep’ was different for Castiel and the Winchesters. For Castiel, it meant staying in one spot, one spot they wouldn’t be looked for for a while, especially with the Demon’s deadline right around the corner. For the Winchesters, it meant hunting in Illinois. Castiel had argued, saying he should go alone, but this was a djinn, and the brothers weren’t willing to risk Castiel to it. If he were attacked, he would be dead before they could get to him.

Dean and Castiel were investing abandoned real estate spots in the middle of nowhere, popular places for djinn to live. They were almost through all the sites when Sam called. Dean put it on speaker. _“There’s a cop car outside,”_ he said is lieu of a greeting. _“You think it’s for us?”_

“I told you,” Castiel muttered under his breath.

Dean stuck his tongue out at him. “I don’t see how, we ditched the plates, the credit cards.”

Sam sighed in relief. _“They’re leaving, false alarm.”_

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Dean said, more to Castiel than Sam.

_“Yeah, being fugitives is a freaking dance party.”_

“I prefer the term vigilante.”

“I’d prefer the term ‘innocent.’”

“That’s ‘cuz you're a nerd, Cas.”

 _“So, you got anything yet?”_ Sam interrupted.

“Are you kidding, how could we, you’ve got us sifting through like 50 miles of real estate here,” Dean complained.

_“Well, that’s where all the victims disappeared.”_

“Yeah, well, we got about diddly squat, what about you?”

“Just one thing, I’m certain it’s a djinn now.”

“Oh, you're certain it’s the thing Cas told us he was certain it was three seconds after hearing about it? Nice.” Dean smiled at Castiel, and he glowed with pride.

 _“Shut up. Just find it and save the people it’s feeding off of, okay? It puts them in comas where they live in a world with their heart’s desire, so I doubt many of them will want to wake up. Oh, and they like to hide in ruins._ ”

Dean raised an eyebrow at Cas. “We passed some ruins, didn’t we?”

Castiel nodded. “Just a few miles in the other direction.”

“Alright, Sam, we’re gonna go check that out, see if you can find anything else.”

“Alright. Be careful.”

“Always.” Dean hung up and did a u-turn. When they arrived at the ruins, Dean handed Castiel a flashlight and a knife dipped in blood. “You go that way, I’ll go this way,” he whispered. Castiel agreed, but within minutes he heard the sounds of Dean struggling and dashed back to where he could be. Castiel tiptoed down the halls, trying not to be heard, but something still grabbed him from behind. He tried to fight it, but he did not last long…

 

\---*---

 

Dean woke up in bed next to a woman he’d never seen before.

 

Castiel woke up in his childhood bedroom, exactly as he’d left it nine years ago.

 

Dean’s first move was to get dressed and investigate the house he was in.

 

Castiel’s was to go back to sleep.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel woke the second time to his father’s voice. “And he slept in, what a shocker.”

Castiel’s eyes flew open. He was looking at his father’s legs. He looked up slowly, and there was Daniel Novak, smiling down at him. “Dad?”

“Castiel, you are the only person I’ve ever known to sleep in on Christmas,” Daniel chided. Castiel was in shock. How could his father be here? And how could it be Christmas? Last Castiel had checked, it was April.

“Here, sweetie,” said a woman’s voice. Castiel looked to his right, and there was a woman standing there, holding out a cup of coffee.

Castiel smiled tentatively at her, sitting up and taking the coffee. “Good morning,”

“Merry Christmas, baby,” she responded, ruffling his hair. Castiel had no idea who this woman was, but he knew immediately that he wanted to. She had brown hair, several shades lighter than Castiel’s, that fell stick straight to her breasts. Her bright blue eyes were warm and content.

Eyes the same as his own. Castiel’s heart skipped a beat as he realized that this was his mother, and he was at home, and it was Christmas. “Merry Christmas, Mom,” he choked out.

Daniel patted him on the shoulder. “Up and at ‘em, son, your grandparents will be here soon. Your mother made pancakes.”

Castiel couldn't keep from smiling, especially when his mother leaned over and whispered, “I even put white chocolate chips in them, just for you.” Nobody had ever known that about Castiel, that he liked white chocolate chip pancakes, so he’d only had them on a handful of occasions. He smiled in thanks.

Castiel’s parents (what a strange word, parents. It was a completely foreign concept to Castiel.) left the room, and as soon as they did, the house started ringing. Castiel jumped. It took him a minute to realize that that had to be a landline.

They had a _landline._

“Ooh, Castiel, that’s your boyfriend for the third time today,” his mother sing-songed. “I’m going to answer itttttt.”

Castiel may not have known anything about mothers, or boyfriends for that matter, but he knew that having his mother speak to his boyfriend (?) would be mortifying. He tried to get out of bed to stop her, but she answered it anyway. “Hey, kiddo. Yes, he’s finally awake and, oh, here he is to stop me from talking to you. Yup. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

She handed the phone to Castiel, smirking. Castiel accepted it, bracing himself to lie to a stranger, but the voice on the other end of the phone was _so_ familiar that Castiel stumbled. _“Heya, Cas.”_

“I- uh- hello, Dean.”

 _“I can’t believe you slept in on Christmas, babe.”_ Castiel’s heart did a funny jump, and he retreated into his room because his mother was looking at him strangely. _“I mean, everyone wakes up early on Christmas. It’s practically law.”_

“How can a wake up time be regulated?”

Dean just laughed. Castiel could practically see him shaking his head. _“I heard your mom made you your special pancakes. You should go eat them.”_

“But I’m talking to you.” This was surprisingly easier than he had expected, this flirting. The hardest part was accepting that he, Castiel Novak, was dating Dean Winchester in this parallel creation of the djinn.

Because of course this wasn’t real. Not his mother, his father, his grandparents. This wasn’t what he and Dean were.

 _But it could be_ , a quiet voice in his head Castiel liked to call wishful thinking whispered. _He wants it, and so do you._

Castiel shut that voice out. Dream Dean was speaking. _“I’m glad you like me more than the pancakes, then. I’ll make them for you as soon as you get home. I think the baby misses you.”_ Castiel’s mind went blank. Baby? _“Yeah, Sam’s pissed because she says your name but not ‘Daddy.’”_

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. “Have you had a good Christmas so far?”

_“Not until you woke up, sunshine.”_

Castiel closed his eyes, but forced himself to not react any further. “Dean, I- I have to go, my grandparents are here.”

_“Okay. Love you, Cas, merry Christmas, I’ll see you on Friday.”_

“Merry Christmas, Dean. I love you, too.” Castiel hung up before any more could be said and just stared at the phone for several minutes. He did not believe in love. How could he? His mother hadn’t loved him, nor had his father loved her. The only person in Castiel’s life that had ever loved Castiel (and only because he had to), was his father, who was now dead. Dean couldn’t love him. Castiel didn’t know how to process that, even if the words hadn’t been said by the real Dean. Castiel wallowed in his room, despite it being Christmas, until his grandparents actually arrived.

Jimmy and Amelia Novak were a hunting couple who had raised two children, Daniel and Claire, in the bedroom that now housed the Winchester brothers, at least in the real world. Castiel emerged from that room, and as he walked down the hallway he noted all the differences between his house in the world and in this fake reality the djinn had created. First of all, the walls were not their normal grey. They were bright blue, and covered in photos. School photos of Castiel, Castiel with his Aunt Claire, Castiel with Dean, Castiel with his grandparents, Castiel with his father, Castiel with his mother, Castiel’s parents on their wedding day, when his mother was pregnant with him, just normal days.

Castiel mourned these pictures, because he knew when he woke up, not a single one would exist. It occurred to Castiel then that he didn’t know _how_ to wake up.

As he wandered into the living room to greet his family, Castiel wondered idly if Dean was having better luck in his own dream.

 

\---*---

 

Dean was happier than he remembering being in his entire life, with his mother, alive and well, and his baby brother engaged and in law school. The only thing really missing was Cas. Carmen was cool, and Dean liked her, but she wasn’t who he really wanted, had wanted for over a year now. Where could he have gone, so far away that not even Sam knew who the hell he was talking about?

And then Dean saw him. It was like the girl from earlier that day, no one seemed to notice him except Dean. However, although the girl had looked normal, with clean clothes on, Cas looked like an absolute train wreck. There was blood on his shirt and smeared on his glasses, and he was covered in grime. As soon as Dean saw him, he pushed past Sam and went to him, but the second he got close, Cas was gone, leaving Dean just staring at the spot where he had been.

Dean should have known better to think the djinn would have given him such a gift. The price for his mother and Jessica could not be Cas. In no universe could Dean be happy knowing that Cas was suffering to make him that way. He had to save him.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel sat with his mother as the family sat around and exchanged gifts. She rested her hand on his head and was softly stroking his hair. Castiel wondered if his true mother was anything like this woman. If so, he mourned growing up without her. Everything could have been so much better for him if he’d had this woman growing up. Aunt Claire had just launched into a funny anecdote when Castiel saw him.

Dean.

Not his dream boyfriend Dean, but Dean as he was currently in the real world. Castiel knew none of his family could see him. Dean was tattered and bloody and dirty, and basically just looked terrible.

It was all Castiel could do not to run to him, but he barely moved. Dean just stared, and then a second later, he was gone.

 

\---*---

 

Cas somewhere out there hurting, not getting along with Sammy, so many dead because Dean wasn’t a hunter, it was all too much. He had to find that djinn and force it to make it right, put everything back.

He looked through every article of every case that no one had been there to solve, each one ending in disaster. Finally, Dean looked up Castiel Novak, fearing the worst. The very first thing that popped up was a St. Louis newspaper, declaring him guilty of murdering two women and torturing another. Dean sighed when he read that Cas had been caught. He supposed there was no point in trying to break him out.

He tilted back in his chair. But if, Cas was hunting in St. Louis, that meant his father had been killed, killed by the Demon, who was still out there.

This whole thing couldn’t be more of a mess.

 

\---*---

 

After Castiel’s relatives left, Castiel sat on the couch and read a book. After a while, his mother joined him on the couch. She was reading _A Tale of Two Cities_. “I decided to see what all the fuss was about with you and this book,” she stated, cuddling into Castiel’s side.

Castiel had decided to enjoy his dream while it lasted. Surely Sam would be able to save them, and if Castiel started seeing him, then he would figure out a way to go back to life.

Even then, he still might just stay. He was comfortable here, and he was loved, and maybe that was enough for him to want to give love in return. He wanted to, badly, but love had never gotten him anything.

Castiel thought of how he had rejected Dean and pushed him away for no good reason, and he decided if there was ever a reason to go back, it would be to rectify that with the real Dean.

 

\---*---

 

Dean hated having to lie to Sam, even this weirdo Sam who didn’t like him, but he had to. He’d had to tell him that he was taking their mother’s silver because he owed money. If he told Sam the truth, he’d probably wake the whole house. He sighed. “Sam, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that we don’t get along, and I wish to hell I could stay and fix it. But I gotta do this. People’s lives depend on it.” Dean took a silver knife and that was it.

Sam’s brows were furrowed. “What are you talking about, Dean?”

“Nothing, forget it, just, uh… hey, tell Mom I love her.” Dean started to go, but Sam stopped him.

“Dean.”

“I’ll see you, Sammy.” Dean took one last look at the house and went outside to his car. The last thing he expected was his estranged brother to join him, but he did. Dean was bewildered. “Get out of the car.”

“I’m going with you,” Sam stated in a voice that permitted no argument.

Dean argued anyway. “You're just gonna slow me down.”

“Tough.”

“This is dangerous, and you could get hurt.”

“Yeah, and so could you, Dean.”

“Sam-”

“Look, whatever stupid thing you're about to do, you're not doing it alone, and that’s that.” Dean appreciated that despite their differences now, Sam was still a brother who cared about him. Clearly he’d done something right at some point.

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

Sam sighed. “Because you're still my brother.”

Dean nodded. “Bitch.”

Sam looked offended. “What’re you calling me a bitch for?”

“You- you're supposed to say jerk.” Sam just looked at him like he was crazy.

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

Other than Sam trying to get Dean to check into a mental hospital after he learned the truth, the ride back to Illinois was relatively smooth. Sam fell asleep, and Dean reluctantly woke him up before going inside. When they were in, Sam tried to convince him to give up, go back, but Dean ignored him. Suddenly, they heard a woman whimper. Sam shut up after that. Dean followed the sounds of crying to a large, open basement. The first thing they came across were two rotting corpses, which didn’t even faze Dean.

Cas did. As soon as the flashlight lit up Castiel’s dark hair, Dean hissed and strode over to him. The girl on the street was there, too, looking awful. Cas looked like shit as well. His usually tanned skin was pale and scabbed, and his glasses lay on the ground. His eyes were open and bloodshot. Dean reached out and gently grazed his cheek. “Cas…”

“Dean, _who the hell is that?”_ Sam demanded. Dean had forgotten he was there.

Cas made a soft noise- a low whine. Dean closed his eyes. “None of your business.”

“Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean spotted a shadow on the wall, a moving shadow.

He hit Sam in the chest. “Shh.” Dean touched Cas’ face one more time before dragging Sam away, hiding behind a stack of crates.

The djinn approached the girl, who now seemed to be awake. “Where’s my dad?”

“Sleep,” the monster ordered, touching her face.

Then he turned to Cas, and Dean shoved his fist in his mouth. Cas, too, seemed to wake momentarily. “Where am I? Mom?” he whispered. “Dean?” Dean shut his eyes. The djinn gave him the same treatment, and Dean opened his eyes. Castiel was back to looking dazed and dead where he hung. The djinn pressed his nose against Cas’ hairline, and Dean lit up with jealousy and rage. Sam saw it too, and he held him back with a hand on his shoulder. The djinn was unhooking Cas’ IV from the bag and drinking his blood straight from the tube.

Sam made a disgusted noise. Dean glared at him and made him move, as the djinn was now coming for them. It went up the staircase they were hiding under, thankfully. “This is real? You're not crazy?”

Dean wasn’t even listening to him. He was already going back to Cas. Sam followed him. “He doesn’t have a mother,” he told Sam.

“What?”

“Cas. He doesn’t have a mother, but when the djinn woke him up, he said ‘mom.’”

“He also said your name, Dean.”

“Yeah, but see, I was with him when this happened. His mom has never been in the picture. And he didn’t know where he was.” Dean carded his fingers through Castiel’s hair, delicately. “What is that’s what the djinn does? It doesn’t grant you a wish, it just makes it think it has.” Dean chuckled. “Funny, that me and Cas would have the same wish.”

Sam was tugging on Dean’s elbow. “Look, man, that thing could come back, alright?”

Dean didn’t pay attention to him. “I was with Cas… what if I’m like them? What if I’m tied up in here someplace? What if all this is in my head? Maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid, and then feeds on us slow… oh, God, Cas’ll be in here forever. Or, I guess if you go save his ass. But what if it’ll be too late for me?”

“No, Dean, that doesn’t make sense, okay?”

“That’s why they keep appearing to me, I’m just catching flashes of reality, and I’m taking all this stuff in, but I can’t snap out of it.”

Sam was still pleading with him. “Okay, look, yeah, you were right, I was wrong, you're not crazy, but we need to get out of here, fast.” Sam tried to drag Dean out, but Dean knocked his arm away.

“I don’t think you're real.”

Sam glanced up, towards the djinn, and then rushed Dean. “Dean, do you feel that? You feel this? This is not an acid trip. I’m real, and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us, for real. Now, please.”

Dean’s head was spinning and he didn’t know what to think, until he remembered Cas and his adventure in the dream world. When Cas had been possessed, he could have died in his dreams and therefore died in real life, but the true legend goes if you die in a dream, you wake up. “There’s only one way to know for sure,” Dean realized, reaching in his pocket for the knife.

Sam backed away. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing?”

“It’s an old wives’ tale,” Dean explained, turning the knife towards himself. “If you're about to die in a dream, you’ll wake up.”

“No, no, no, no, that’s crazy, alright?”

“Maybe.”

“You're gonna kill yours-”

“Or I’m gonna wake up.” Dean glanced back to Cas. “I can’t leave him.”

“Look, this isn’t a dream, alright? I’m here, with you, now, and you are about to kill yourself, Dean.”

Dean held his brother’s gaze for a few moments. “No, I’m pretty sure…. Like 90% sure, but I’m sure enough.” Dean turned the knife inward, ready to plunge it in, when Sam called for him to wait and Dean heard footsteps.

“Why’d you have to keep digging?” Sam asked sadly. Carmen was walking up behind him. Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone?” Jess was there, too, all the people in his fake life. Cas wasn’t one of them. “You were happy.”

His mother stepped in front of him. “Put the knife down, honey.”

Dean shook his head. “You're not real. None of it is.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mary insisted. “It’s still better than anything you had.” Dean wasn’t so sure. He had a home and a brother who loved him and a best friend who was on the verge of being something more. He had his car and the knowledge that every day, he saved lives. “It’s everything you want. We’re a family again. Let’s go home.”

“I’ll die,” Dean told her. “The djinn will drain the life out of me in a couple days.”

“But in here, with us, it will feel like years, a lifetime. I promise. No more pain, no more fear.” No more Cas. Dean supposed he could always break him out of jail… but the real Cas would die, as well. Sam too, probably. “Just love and comfort and safety. Dean. Stay with us.” His mother stroked his head, and Dean felt tears spring to his eyes. It was so tempting.

Jessica spoke up. “You don’t have to worry about Sam anymore. You get to watch him live a full life.”

Carmen stepped forward and kissed him gently on the lips. “We could have our own future together, our own family. I love you, Dean. Please.” Dean shivered.

Sam stepped forward once more. “Why is it our job to save everyone?” Dean remembered Cas telling him once that prior to his father being killed, Cas had hunted for the honor of it, purely because it was the right thing to do. Dean loved him for that. “Haven’t we done enough?” No. No they hadn’t, because Sam and Cas still needed to be saved, saved from the Demon. He could take Castiel from the djinn, and turn him into a monster like he had promised, and with no one to protect him, he would take Sam and do who knew what to him.

Dean looked at the knife in his hands, then back up at the faces of his mom and brother. “I’m sorry.”

Dean plunged the knife into his gut.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel heard it, his voice being called. It was distant, but he could tell it was time to leave this fantasy world. He was on the phone with the Dream Dean at the time. He was telling a story about something cute his- _their_ niece had done that day.

“Dean?”

_“Yeah?”_

“I have to go. But I love you.” In their twice-daily phone calls, Dean had always been the one to say that first, but Castiel figured this was his last chance. It simply wasn’t possible that Dean, the real Dean would still want him after Castiel’s rejection of him. He would try, sure, but it simply wasn’t realistic.

_“Okay, bye, Cas, love you too.”_

Castiel hung up and took a deep breath. The calling was louder now, closer. It sounded like Sam. He wandered into the kitchen, where his mother was doing the dishes. “Mom?”

She looked up and smiled at him. “What’s up, baby?”

Castiel took another deep breath. “I want you to know that I forgive you. I forgave you many years ago.”

She looked up at him, confused. “Sweetie, what do you mean?”

Castiel did not want to cry, but he would miss this so much, his parents and Dean and Sam being married with his baby. “Goodbye, Mom.” He walked away from his mother’s questions and out into the yard, where his father was having a beer. Castiel sat on the porch next to him. “I never got to say goodbye to you, Dad.”

Daniel squinted at him. “What?”

“And now that I have an opportunity, I don’t know what to say. Castiel turned to face him, and his father did the same. “Thank you for raising me, although I’m sure you didn’t want me. I apologize for being a disappointment to you.” Castiel’s vision was blurring in and out of reality. “I hope you're well, wherever you are.”

“Son, what’re you-”

But Castiel was not there anymore, for Sam had succeeded in waking him up from his dream. A girl, looking halfway dead, was draped over his shoulder. Castiel was being cradled in Dean’s arms. He was gently levered back on his feet. “Cas, you okay?”

Castiel nodded. “Fine. The djinn-”

“Taken care of. Let’s get outta here, this girl needs to go to the hospital.” Castiel complied, and he was happy to let the poor girl lay on his lap in the backseat. In fact, within minutes, Castiel was falling into a dreamless sleep himself.

 

\---*---

 

“So,” Sam began, sitting next to Castiel. “Dean dreamed about what would’ve happened if our mom had never died. What about you?”

Castiel looked up. “It was similar. I dreamt… I dreamt my parents had been in love, so I had grown up with both of them. There were no monsters to hunt, and it was Christmas.” Castiel smiled weakly. “I never actually saw you, but I heard plenty about you and your daughter from Dean.”

Sam looked sad for a moment, but quickly hid the expression. “So Dean was your…?”

Castiel glared at him. “Yes, but don’t tell him.”

“Hey, I wasn’t going to.”

Neither of them said anything for a few moments until Castiel sighed. “I was in no part of his perfect world. I believe your brother had moved on.”

“Hey, don’t be like that. It wasn’t a perfect fantasy, like he said, it was a wish, and he wished for our mom to be alive, and if that had happened, we would have never met you. I don’t know how the hell you ended up with everything, though.”

“Djinns are very powerful, Sam. I imagine it was able to detect my… abilities and realized it could have fed off me for a long time, so it made me a perfect fantasy. And it worked. If you hadn’t come for me, Sam, I would have stayed.”

Sam smiled sadly. “You can at least have one part of it, you know?”

Castiel nodded. “We shall see.” More silence between the two of them. “Sam.”

“The Demon is meant to be coming for you in a matter of days.”

“He’s not gonna be too pleased with you, either.”

“I’m aware. But I need you to promise you’ll stay close to Dean or I at all times.”

Sam nodded. “Of course, Cas.”

 

\---*---

 

Sam broke his promise the day after it was made. He didn’t think it would be a big deal. Cas was asleep in the back seat, and he was just going to get Dean some food.

It should have taken a few minutes, at most.

But Sam never came back.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel was woken violently by Dean shaking his shoulders. “Cas. Cas! Wake to fuck up!”

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” he promised, sitting up and looking around at Dean’s horrified face. Castiel didn’t have to look in the front seat to know Sam was gone. “Sam?”

“Gone,” Dean confirmed. “I don’t know what the hell happened, he just went in there for food and then everyone in there is dead and Sam’s just gone.”

Castiel swore and got out of the car. “He promised me. Dean, I’m sorry.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Castiel could barely meet his eye. “Azazel told me he meant to take Sam two months after our meeting.”

Dean took a step back. “What?”

“Dean, I’m sorry. But Sam didn’t want you to worry.”

“Didn’t want me to worry? Maybe if I had, he’d still be here right now!” Dean’s voice was steadily on the rise, and Castiel flinched.

“He promised me we wouldn’t go anywhere alone.”

Dean groaned, planting his face in his hands. “God, Cas, how could you not tell me about this?”

Castiel sighed. “Sam was convinced you’d never let us leave the house.”

“Damn straight I wouldn’t, not when people- _demons_ are threatening to kidnap him!”

“Sam didn’t want that.”

“Oh, so he wanted to be kidnapped, that’s it?”

“I don’t pretend to know what goes through your brother’s mind, Dean, but this isn’t the issue right now.”

“Anything else you're forgetting to tell me about? Is Russia planning a missile strike? Do you have a secret child? Is Elvis back from the dead?”

Castiel stepped forward and planted his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “Dean. You can yell at me as much as you like, after Sam is returned to us. We don’t have time for this now.”

Dean’s shoulders sagged. “Right. You're right.” Castiel nodded, and before he could move away, Dean pulled him in, wrapping his arms around his waist in a hug. Castiel tentatively hugged him back.

They seemed to break away at the same instant. Castiel cleared his throat. “We should ask Bobby for help.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go call him, maybe the Roadhouse, too.” He walked away, pulling his phone out as he went. Castiel sighed and got back in the car, pulling his knees up to his chest. He wished there was anything to show them that Sam was okay, alive at least, but all Castiel could hope for was that they would find him. He was mostly just afraid of how they would find him.

Dean opened the door to the back seat and slid in beside Castiel, mimicking his pose. “Bobby said we should stay put and he’d be here tomorrow morning.” Castiel nodded. Dean sighed. “Cas?”

“Yes?”

“I never asked about your djinn dream.” Castiel did not respond. Dean sighed. “I’m asking now.”

Castiel shrugged. “It was Christmas. I woke up in my childhood bedroom, and my mother and father were there, and my grandparents and my aunt. I had white chocolate chip pancakes. Sam had a daughter, in Kansas.”

“Was I there?”

Castiel looked at the floor. “Yes,” he whispered, embarrassed.

“Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

Dean sighed. “You weren’t in my dream.” Castiel flinched, internally. “I mean, you existed, but you were in jail and if I’d have shown up you’d have had no idea who I was.” Castiel wished Dean would shut up. “I’m glad it’s not reality,” Dean said quietly.

Castiel furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I mean, apparently I was a total dick. I mean, I still am, but at least I didn’t sleep with my brother’s prom date. So Sam and I didn’t get along. And I- I don’t want that. And I don’t want you to… not… be here.”

Castiel, thought, for a moment, about elaborating on Dean’s role in his fantasy world. But ultimately he decided that now was not the right time. So he said nothing and eventually they both drifted off to sleep…

 

\---*---

 

Castiel jumped at the tapping on the window. Bobby waved at him, and Castiel groaned and tried to sit up, but there was a weight on his legs and they were asleep. Castiel glanced down and jolted. Dean’s head was resting on Castiel’s stomach. He was still asleep. Castiel slowly eased out from underneath him, ending up on the ground. Bobby, who was watching from the window, sniggered. Castiel glared at him and opened the sharply, causing the older man to jump back. “What, princess in there not done with his beauty sleep?”

“He had a rough night, Bobby.”

“Yeah, we all did.” Bobby grumbled. “You outta wake him up. I brought crap.”

Castiel sighed but nodded, reopening the door of the Impala. Castiel leaned over Dean’s head and shook his shoulder lightly. Dean stirred slightly, and Castiel did it again, this time being rewarded with the opening of bright green eyes. “Cas,” Dean addressed. “You're kinda really close to my face right now.”

Castiel moved back quickly. “Apologies.”

“No, it’s-” Dean cleared his throat and sat up. “Bobby here?”

“Yes.”

Bobby laid out a map for them on the hood of the Impala. “This is it- all the demonic signs and omens over the past month.”

Castiel frowned. The map was near blank. Dean raised his eyebrows. “Are you joking? There’s nothing here!”

“Exactly.”

Castiel sighed and started pacing. “Come on, there’s got to be something,” Dean pleaded. “What about the normal, low-level stuff, you know, exorcisms, that kind of thing?”

“That’s what I’m telling you, there’s nothing. It’s completely quiet,” Bobby insisted.

“Then how can we find Sam?” Castiel asked, throwing his arms up. Bobby shrugged, and Dean’s phone started to ring.

“Ash, what do you got?” Dean sighed in disappointment. “Come on, man, you gotta give us something, we’re looking at a 3,000 mile haystack!”

“No one said he was in the states,” Castiel pondered. Dean glared at him.

He listened for another minute. “I guess we’re going to the Roadhouse.”

Castiel beat Bobby to the front seat, and they were off, Dean speeding like a maniac. Castiel prayed three times on the way there to every god he doesn’t believe in.

In the end, though, it was all for naught, because when they arrived at the Roadhouse, there was no Roadhouse. Just ashes and ruins. Castiel was the first one out of the car, running to the site of his childhood home away from home. His first thought was of Jo, but she was in Minnesota. “Ellen,” he whispered, sinking to his knees. She’d been there for him since he was seven years old. He was surrounded by the bodies of hunters burnt to a crisp. Dean and Bobby were navigating the wreckage with a considerable less amount of emotion. Taking a deep breath, Castiel stood, though he was still shaking. Dean reached out and gently held his wrist. Castiel swallowed. “I’m going to call Jo,” he whispered and then carefully fled the scene. He sat on the trunk of the Impala and dialed Jo, dreading the conversation that was to come.

_“Hey, Castiel. What’s up?”_

Castiel took a deep breath. “I’m at the Roadhouse. What’s left of it, anyway.”

_“What do you mean?”_

“It looks like there was a fire. Jo, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe there are an survivors.”

_“My… my mom?”_

Castiel closed his eyes, holding back tears. “I’m sorry.”

_“I- I gotta go, Cas, just- thanks for calling. I’ll- I’ll talk to you later.”_

Castiel nodded. “Okay. Be careful, Jo, there are demons after all of us, it seems.”

 _“You too, Cas.”_ She hung up on him, and Dean returned to the car.

“Ash is dead.”

“I figured.”

“Jo okay?”

Castiel shook his head. “How could she be?”

Dean nodded. “You okay?”

Castiel sighed. “I will be.”

Dean sat down next to him. “There were a lot of hunters in there.”

“The world was short of them as it was.”

Dean sighed. “I guess we’ll just have to compensate, huh?”

“I suppose. How are we going to find Sam now? What could Ash have known?”

Dean shrugged disheartedly. “We didn’t see Ellen. She might still be out there.”

Castiel shook his head. “Wishful thinking.”

Bobby joined them at the car. “We’ll find Sam, boys.”

“How?” Dean demanded angrily. He bowed his head, groaning.

Castiel frowned. “Dean?”

Dean pressed his palms against his forehead, still making pained sounds. Suddenly, he stopped. “What was that?” demanded Bobby.

“I don’t know. Headache?”

Castiel touched Dean’s shoulder gently. “Dean, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were having a vision.”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, it must be the stress. I’m not some psychic.”

“I said if I didn’t know better.”

But then it happened again, this time Dean falling to the ground. Castiel went with him. “Dean!”

Bobby knelt down as well, putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You with us?”

Dean groaned, leaning heavily on Castiel. “Yeah, I think so. I saw Sam,” Castiel gasped. “I saw him.”

“Why are you having visions now?”

“I don’t fucking know, man,” Dean said, standing. “But I don’t like it. That was about as fun as getting kicked in the jewels.”

“Dean,” Castiel chided, “focus. Where was Sam, what else did you see?”

“Uh, there was a bell.”

“What kind of bell?” Bobby questioned.

“Um, like, a big- a big bell with some kind of engraving on it.”

“Ah, the final clue.”

“Shut up, Cas.”

“An engraving? Was it a tree, like an oak tree?” Bobby pressed.

Dean and Castiel stared at him. “Yeah, exactly.”

Bobby nodded. “I know where Sam is.”

“Where?”

“Cold Oak, South Dakota.”

Castiel couldn’t believe it. “Why would you think of that?”

“‘Cuz it’s haunted and it’s abandoned and it’s got a bell,” Bobby explained irritably. “Now get in the car, idjits.”

 

\---*---

 

When Bobby told them to stop, there was no town in sight. Just woods, as far as the eye could see. They got out of the car.

“It looks like the rest of the way’s on foot,” Bobby commented. Dean and Castiel looked at each other and sighed.

They loaded themselves down with weapons and lights of all sorts. Perhaps not the best plan for a several-mile hike through the woods, but it was the only option any of them were comfortable with.

They went as fast as they could. Castiel had a queasy feeling in his gut, something that told him this was not going to end well. Finally, they were out of the woods, literally, at least. There was a path, and buildings. They started calling out Sam’s name, and when they rounded the corner onto what must have once been a street, there was Sam.

“Sam!” Dean called in relief. Castiel sighed, pocketing his knife.

“Dean!”

There was a man in an army uniform just behind Sam. Castiel didn’t notice him until he was standing, holding a knife. He and Dean started screaming for Sam at the same time, but the soldier was too close, and they too far. He sank the knife into Sam’s back, and Dean, Castiel, and Bobby sprinted towards them.

Sam sank to his knees. Castiel wanted to puke.

They reached Sam, and Dean met his brother on the ground, pleading. Castiel and Bobby sprinted after the killer, but when they reached the edge of the town, he was just gone.

Castiel turned back around in despair. Dean was desperately clutching his brother’s body to his chest, crying. Castiel slowly trudged back to the Winchesters and collapsed onto the ground. He said nothing, none of them did, but each was thinking in their own way that this was their fault, none more than Castiel.

A clock struck somewhere, and Sam Winchester was dead.

 

\---*---

 

For two days, Dean did not speak. They stayed in Cold Oak, which Castiel did not understand. There was no reason to still be there.

Castiel had a theory that Dean meant to never leave. He didn’t know what he would have to say, what he would have to do to talk him out of that.

Bobby left at some point to get food. Dean just sat, staring at Sam’s body.

Two days, and Castiel finally tried to attempt contact.

“Dean.” Nothing. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare say you're sorry.” Dean’s voice was cracked with lack of use.

“But I am sorry. It’s my fault, and-”

“Cas, don’t. This is the Demon, okay?”

“But I-”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted. “I really, really don’t want to blame you, so please stop trying to make me, okay?”

Castiel sighed but didn’t bring it up again.

Bobby returned with food, but Dean refused it. Castiel still had that awful feeling, so he did as well. He was beginning to wonder if that feeling would ever go away. If it didn’t, he deserved it.

“Dean…” Bobby started, “I hate to bring this up, I really do. But don’t you think maybe it’s time we give Sam a funeral?”

Dean looked at Bobby angrily but also flatly at the same time. “No.”

“Dean,” Castiel pleaded. “It’s been two days. It’s borderline psychotic.”

“Not _yet,_ Cas.”

Castiel sighed and hugged his knees. Bobby sat down across from Dean. I want you two to come with me.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Any other circumstances, and Castiel might have argued, but he wasn’t leaving Dean, not now.

“Dean, please.”

“Won’t you cut me some slack?”

“Something big is going down, end-of-the-world big,” Bobby pointed out.

“Well then let it end!” Dean roared angrily. Castiel flinched.

“You don’t mean that,” Bobby’s voice was still calm, but Dean was growing increasingly angry.

He stood. “You don’t think so? You don’t think I’ve given enough? You don’t think I’ve paid enough?”

“Dean, if the world ends, then everything you’ve suffered will have been for nothing,” Castiel reminded him.

“I don’t care. I’m done with it. All of it. And, Bobby, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around and get the hell out of here.” Bobby didn’t move, so Dean shoved him towards the door. “Go!” Bobby still didn’t move, just stared at Dean, hurt. Any other day, Castiel would have stopped him long before it escalated to this point. “I’m sorry. Please just go.”

This time, Bobby complied. “You know where I’ll be.”

Once they heard Bobby tromp through the woods, Dean sat on the floor next to Castiel, sighing. “You don’t want me to leave?” the latter asked quietly.

Dean shook his head. “I don’t want to be alone.” Castiel nodded. “He was more than my brother, you know? I practically raised the kid. It was always my job to keep him safe, so this is on me.”

“I thought this was on the Demon.”

“No, the Demon’s just who I’m mad at. I don’t think any of us did everything we could have.”

Castiel rested his chin on his knees. “I was jealous of the two of you when I met you.”

Dean looked surprised. “Why?”

“I’ve never been as close with anyone as you two were.”

Dean stared off sadly. “I spent all day every day with that kid for probably a good 20 years.”

“It showed.”

Dean didn’t smile, but for a moment, he didn’t look sad.

 

\---*---

 

Dean snuck out while Cas was sleeping. Hopefully, he wouldn’t even realize he’d gone. He hadn’t slept since the night Sam was taken, so it was unlikely this would just be a short nap. Dean paused before going out the door. He looked so peaceful, and looking at him, you wouldn’t be able to tell the horrors going on inside his skull. It was why Castiel didn’t sleep unless he absolutely had to, Dean knew. He didn’t want Sam’s death to haunt his nightmares. Dean was doing the same thing.

He drove to the crossroads and found everything he needed in the trunk. He buried the box containing graveyard dirt, a black cat skull, and a picture of his face.

The crickets chirped. The frogs croaked.

“Come on,” he muttered.

He’d decided that he couldn’t live without his brother. Bobby wouldn’t like it, Cas really wouldn’t like it, and Sam really _really_ wouldn’t like it, but he didn’t have a choice.

Dean sighed. “Show your face, you bitch!”

“Easy, sugar, you’ll wake the neighbors.” Dean whirled around. The demon smiled. “Dean. It is so, _so_ good to see you. I notice you didn’t bring Castiel along. Smart. Don’t want to lose the last person you love in the world, now do you?”

“I should send you straight back to Hell,” Dean threatened without meaning.

“Oh, you should. But you won’t. And I know why.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Following in Daddy’s footsteps, I see. You want to make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead, and- let me guess- you're offering up your own soul?”

“There are a hundred other demons who’d love to get their hands on it. And it’s all yours. All you gotta do is bring Sam back,” Dean pleaded. “Give me 10 years- 10 years, and then you come for me.” 10 years was plenty of time. It was longer than Dean expected to live, anyway.

“You must be joking.”

“That’s the same deal you give everyone else.”

“You're not everyone else.” The demon stepped in close to him. “Why would I want to give you anything? Just keep your gutter soul. It’s too tarnished anyway.”

Dean knew that she was just trying to make him more desperate, but it still hurt. And anyways, it worked. Two could play at this game. “Nine years.”

“No.”

“Eight.”

“You keep going, I’ll keep saying no.”

Dean sighed. Half the time would be fine, too. Five years was a long time. “Okay, five years. Five years and my bill comes due. That’s my offer. Five years or no deal.” He was lying, of course. The demon could give him a week with Sam and Cas and he would take it.

The demon smiled and stepped in, almost pressing her lips to his, but she just told him no again. “Fine.”

“Fine.” She started walking away. “Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint.”

Goddamn it. “Wait.” The demon turned. “What do I have to do?”

“First of all, quit groveling. Needy guys are such a turnoff.” She sighed. “Look… I shouldn’t be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble. But what can I say? I have a blind spot for you, Dean. You're like a… puppy.” Dean did not appreciate that analogy. “You're just too fun to play with. I’ll do it.”

“You’ll bring him back?”

“I will. And because I’m such a saint, I’ll give you one year and one year only. But here’s the thing. If you try to welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead, he’s back to rotten meat in no time.”

One year. He could do a lot in a year.

“It’s a better deal than your dad ever got,” the demon went on. “What do you say?”

Dean didn’t say anything, just kissed her.

 

\---*---

 

Sam woke suddenly , as if from a dream. He had no clue where he was, but Cas was there, too, sleeping, so it couldn’t be anywhere terrible.

It was funny, though. Sam could have sworn he’d been stabbed. He looked at his back, and sure enough, there was an angry red scar near his spinal cord. How the hell was he alive?

The door to wherever he was opened, and Dean walked in. His eyes went immediately to Cas, still sleeping, and then to Sam. “Sammy. Thank God.”

“Hey.” Dean hugged him fiercely.

“ _Ow,”_ he groaned. “Uh, Dean…”

Dean let him go. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, man. I’m just… I’m just happy to see you up and around, that’s all. Come on, sit down.” Sam sat back down on the blood-stained mattress.

“Dean… what happened to me?”

Dean sat in a chair across from him. “Well, what do you remember?”

Sam shook his head. “I- I saw you and Cas and Bobby, and then I felt this sharp pain, like white-hot, you know and then… you started running at me, and that’s about it.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, that- that kid stabbed you in the back. You lost a lot of blood. It was pretty touch and go for a while.”

Stabbed in the back? There was no way Sam could have survived that, not a chance. “But, Dean, you can’t patch up a wound that bad.”

Dean froze for a second. “No, Cas could. I think he was trying to use his healing mojo on you, and I don’t know, maybe it worked. He’s exhausted, hasn’t slept the whole time.” Sam looked over at him, curled up in himself and his head resting against the wall. He didn’t seem to be having a nightmare, but it was probably only a matter of time. Stupid idiots barely slept even when Sam wasn’t missing or dying. “Who was that kid, anyway?”

“His name’s Jake. Did you get him?” Whatever the Demon’s plans were, Jake was a big part of them now.

“No, he disappeared into the woods.”

“We got to find him, Dean. And I swear, I’m gonna tear that son of a bitch apart.” Stabbing someone in the back was such a low move, especially when they were trying to leave you the hell alone. Sam wasn’t sure where this sudden inexplicable rage had come from.

“Woah, woah, woah, easy Van Damme. You just woke up, alright? Let’s get you something to eat. You want something to eat?” Sam nodded reluctantly. “I’m starving, come on.”

They went to get pizza, leaving Cas to sleep at the shack. When they got back, he was still out cold. Sam explained the whole story to Dean, about finding Andy and Ava and Jake and  how Lily had tried to get away but had been killed. He explained how Ava had been the killer all along, controlling the demons with her mind. He explained how Jake had tried to kill him so that he could get away and kill the Demon. He left out the part where the Demon showed him what had happened to him as a baby. “One thing I don’t get, Dean, is if the Demon only wanted one of us, how did Jake and I both get away?”

Dean hesitated in his answer. “Well, they left you for dead. I’m sure they thought it was over.” Dean took a bite of his pizza. “So now that Yellow Eyes has Jake, what’s he gonna do with him?”

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, we gotta stop him.”

“Hold on, alright, you need to get your rest,” Dean protested. “We got time.”

“No, we don’t.”

Dean glanced at Cas. “Sam, oceans aren’t boiling, okay? Frogs aren’t raining from the sky, let’s get you your strength back first.”

Sam knew he was right, but he didn’t like it. “Well, did you call the Roadhouse, do they know anything?”

Dean looked away. “Yeah.”

Sam frowned. “Dean, what is it?”

Dean sat in the chair across from Sam. “The Roadhouse burned to the ground. Ash is dead, probably Ellen, a lot of other hunters, too.”

Sam couldn't believe it. Their whole world was falling apart, their support crumbling. “Demons?”

“Yeah, we think so. We think because Ash found something.”

“What’d he find?”

“Bobby’s working on that right now.”

Sam looked down at the table, and then at Cas. “How’s Cas holding up?”

Dean sighed. “He’s not doing so hot. He’s beating himself up for not telling me that the Demon was coming for you, and then Ellen, and you… he’s not great.”

“Please tell me you're not giving him a hard time about that, Dean, I told him not to.”

“I’m not, promise.”

Sam sighed. “Can we head to Bobby’s, help him out? I’ll rest there, I promise.”

Dean hesitated, glancing at Cas, but agreed. “Okay, you go get in the car, I’ll get packed up.”

Sam nodded and headed to the Impala.

 

\---*---

 

“Cas. Cas, hey, wake up.”

Castiel’s neck hurt and he groaned to prove it. The cabin was empty except for the two of them. “Where’s Sam?” He hoped Dean hadn’t had a funeral without him.

“He’s, uh. He’s in the car. Cas… he’s alive.”

Castiel sat up, not caring about his neck. “What?”

Dean sighed and stood, extending a hand for Castiel. He took it. “I brought him back.

Castiel froze. His blood ran cold. “You did what?” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Dean flinched. “Yeah.”

Castiel dropped Dean’s hand. He didn’t even know how to process this. “You- you sold your soul? To bring Sam back?”

Dean looked down, ashamed. “Cas, I told you, in Oregon-”

Castiel punched him, hard, in the shoulder. “And I told _you_ in Oregon!”

Dean sighed. “It doesn’t matter, Cas, what’s done is done.”

“Of course it matters!” Castiel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He felt like his entire skeleton was breaking apart. “Dean,” he started, “why do you have to believe that everyone else is worth more than you?”

Dean said nothing. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“ _Sorry._ No, you're not sorry, you're a hypocrite, do you realize that? You were so angry with your father for trading his life for yours, and then you were angry with me just for _considering_ trading my life for my father’s, but it’s alright for you to do it for Sam?”

Dean continued to look down. “I know, Cas, you have every right to be mad, but please don’t tell Sammy. It’ll destroy him.”

Castiel glared, and both knew he would never tell. “I doubt they gave you ten years,” Castiel guessed.

Dean nodded. “Just one.”

Castiel swore. “You don’t deserve to die, Dean.” Dean didn’t answer. Castiel threw his arms in the air. “But of course you think you do. Dean, did you once bother to think of the rest of us when you did this?”

“I was-”

Castiel pressed his fingers under his glasses, into his eyes. “No you _weren’t!_ You're right, Sam is going to be destroyed, because you can’t hide this from him for long! Did you know Bobby considers you a son? Do you think he’s going to thank you for this? And what about me, Dean?”

Dean looked up, tears in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he said in a breathy voice.

“But I won’t! Dean, do you have any idea what you mean to me?” Dean finally met his eyes, his lips parting, but Sam honked the horn outside. Castiel took a deep breath. “What did you tell him?”

“Um. That you- you patched him up, and you were trying to use your mojo on him, and maybe it worked.”

Castiel nodded and pushed past him, climbing into the back seat of the Impala. “Hello, Sam. I’m glad you're recovering.”

“Yeah, me too, thanks Cas.” Dean exited the cabin, hands shoved deep into his pockets and eyes downcast. “What happened between you two?”

Castiel gritted his teeth. “Nothing at all.”

 

\---*---

 

Castiel was still fuming when they got to Bobby’s house. Sam caught on, too. He kept asking if they were okay and glancing awkwardly between them.

Bobby looked completely shocked when he opened the door. There was Castiel, arms folded across his chest and a murderous expression on his face. There was Sam, alive and well, and there was Dean, glancing nervously at the two of them at regular intervals.

“Hey, Bobby,” Sam greeted.

“Sam. It’s good to… see you up and around.” He looked at Dean and Castiel. Dean looked away and Castiel shook his head.

“Yeah, well, it’s all thanks to Cas.” Bobby raised his eyebrows at Castiel, who just shook his head again and glared pointedly at Dean. Castiel followed Sam in. Bobby stopped Dean with a look.

“Well, Sam’s better now, and we’re back in it so… tell us what you know.” Bobby stared at Dean, and Sam looked yet more confused.

Bobby sighed and led them to the main room. “Well, I found something, but I’m not sure what the hell it means.”

“What is it?”

“Demonic omens… like a frickin tidal wave. Cattle deaths, lightning storms. They skyrocketed from out of nowhere.” Bobby unearthed a map of the northwest, specifically Wyoming, placing it on top of everything else. “All around here, except for one place- southern Wyoming. That one area’s totally clean- spotless. It’s almost as if...”

“What?”

“The demons are circling it,” Castiel answered, looking at the map.

“But you don’t know why?” Dean asked Bobby.

“No, and by this point, my eyes are swimming. Sam, Castiel, would you take a look at it? Maybe you can catch something I couldn’t.” Sam and Castiel agreed, sitting at the table and poring over the maps. Bobby took Dean outside, surely to talk about Sam’s resurrection.

“Cas, are you gonna tell me what you're mad at Dean about?”

Castiel looked up from his more detailed map of the area Bobby had described. “No.”

“Jesus, what did he do?”

“He’s just an idiot, Sam. And he’s- nevermind.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. “Cas, whatever he did, you know you have to work it out.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m afraid there is no fixing it, Sam. I’m always going to be very angry with him for this, even if it is fixed.”

“Wow.”

“Yes.” They worked in silence after that, just looking at the maps and the books. When Dean and Bobby returned, they didn’t have books with them.

They had Ellen. Castiel stood, toppling his chair. He bent his knees so he could hug her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. She hugged him just as tightly, patting his back. Each had tears in their eyes when they pulled away. “I thought you were dead,” Castiel whispered.

Ellen patted him lightly. “No, baby. Do I need to call Jo?”

“Um-”

She rolled her eyes and talked to her daughter for a few minutes before rejoining the boys at the table. Bobby poured her a shot of holy water. “Bobby, is this really necessary?”

“Just a belt of holy water. Shouldn’t hurt.”

Ellen downed it without breaking eye contact with Bobby. She slid the glass back to him. “Whiskey now, if you don’t mind.” Bobby obliged.

Castiel’s anger had been tampered down by Ellen’s return, so he was able to sit by Dean without glaring at him. Dean looked surprised but pleased and addressed Ellen. “Ellen, what happened, how’d you get out?”

“I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to be in there with everybody else.” She chuckled a little. “But we ran out of pretzels, of all things. It was just dumb luck.” Ellen threw back her glass of whiskey. “Anyway, that’s when Ash called, panic in his voice. He told me to look in the safe. Then the call cut out. By the time I got back, the flames were sky-high, and everybody was dead.” Castiel looked at the floor. So many hunters, so many lives. “I couldn’t have been gone more than 15 minutes.”

“I’m sorry, Ellen,” Sam said sincerely.

“A lot of good people died in there. And _I_ got to live.” She scoffed. “Lucky me.”

Hunters really were a self-loathing bunch.

Bobby brought them back to the issue at hand. “Ellen, you mentioned something about a safe.”

“A hidden safe we keep in the basement,” Ellen clarified.

“Demons get what was inside?”

Ellen shook her head no. Castiel sighed in relief. She reached into her pocket and drew out a map, sliding it to Castiel, who studied it intently. There were several X’s across the southern part of Wyoming. “It appears there is something going on in Wyoming.”

Bobby sighed. “Well then, let’s get cracking.”

Dean nodded. “Cas, can I talk to you for a second?” Castiel huffed but followed him out of the room and into a half bathroom. Dean shut the door carefully. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Dean sighed. “Cas, I don’t- I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Too late.” Castiel stepped towards the door, but Dean pulled him back by the sleeve.

“Cas. You know you're not gonna be mad at me the whole year.”

“I might be.”

“Come on. Look, could you just- just hit me, as hard as you can, and then be done being mad?”

Castiel blinked. That really hadn’t been what he was expecting. “What?”

“Yeah, man, just hit me. Hard as you can. But you're not allowed to be mad at me afterwards.”

Castiel tilted his head. “As hard as I can?”

“Okay, as hard as you want to.” Castiel eyed him and took a step back, balling his right hand into a fist. Dean braced himself, and Castiel punched him so hard in the gut that Dean couldn’t breathe for a second. “Jesus, Cas,” he gasped.

“Strangely enough, I do feel better.”

Dean straightened up. “Holy shit. Okay, I am never offering that again, not to you.”

“Shame.”

Dean grinned at him. “Smartass. C’mon, we got shit to do.”

They emerged from the bathroom, an easy peace between them. Bobby, Ellen, and Sam were crowded around the map. Sam looked up at them. “Hey. We got something.”

Bobby pointed out each X on the map. “These are all sites of abandoned frontier churches, all mid 19th century. All built by Samuel Colt.”

“The gunmaker?” Dean and Castiel asked in unison.

“Yep. And there’s more. He built private railway lines connecting each church.” Bobby reached for a pen and uncapped it. “It just happens to lay out like this.” He connected each dot, and the end result was-

“A pentagram,” Dean marveled.

“No,” Sam corrected. “A Devil’s trap. A 100-square mile Devil’s trap.”

“That’s brilliant. Iron lines, demons can’t cross.” Dean traced the edges with his finger.

“Not so much a trap rather than a fence,” Castiel reasoned.

“I’ve never heard of anything that massive.” Ellen looked amazed.

“No one has.”

“And after all these years, none of the lines are broken, it still works?” Dean clarified.

“It must, if that’s what the demons are surrounding. They can’t get in,” Castiel reasoned.

“Yeah, well, they’re trying,” Bobby assured them.

Ellen straightened. “Why? What’s in there?”

“I’ve been looking, but the only thing I can find in the area besides the churches is an old cowboy cemetery in the middle,” Sam informed them.

Castiel sighed. “Could they figure out a way to get across?”

Bobby shook his head. “This thing’s so powerful, you’d need an A-bomb to destroy it. No way a full-blood demon could get through.”

Sam’s face fell. “No. But I know who could.”

“Who?”

“Jake.”

The hunters all looked at each other. Ellen raised an eyebrow. “Well then boys, let’s haul ass.”

 

\---*---

 

They were hiding in the cemetery for an hour until Jake arrived. All five of them remained unseen. When Jake passed Castiel, he recognized the gun in his hand as the Colt. Castiel creeped over to Dean and whispered in his ear, “He has the Colt.”

Dean let out a long, silent breath. “This could be it, Cas.”

Ellen tugged on Castiel’s sleeve. They were sneaking up behind Jake in a half circle. Castiel raised his gun and joined his four fellow hunters.

“Howdy, Jake,” Sam greeted.

Jake turned and the look on his face when he saw himself faced with five guns was priceless. He looked to Sam and it shifted to confusion. “Wait. You were dead. I killed you.” Dean and Castiel traded a look.

“Yeah? Well, next time, finish the job.”

“I did! I cut clean through your spinal cord, man,” Jake insisted.

Sam turned his head towards Castiel. “Cas?” Castiel didn’t look at him.

“You can’t be alive,” Jake went on. “You can’t be.”

“Okay, just take it real easy there, son,” Bobby turned Jake’s attention from Sam.

Jake widened his eyes at Bobby. “And if I don’t?”

Castiel flicked his gun. “Take a guess.”

“What are you gonna do, kill me?”

“It’s a thought,” Sam warned him.

Jake shook his head at him. “You had your chance. You couldn’t.”

“I won’t make that mistake twice,” Sam assured him.

Jake grinned. Dean tilted his head. Castiel was impressed with his calmness thus far in the face of his brother’s killer. “What are you smiling at, you little bitch?”

Jake ignored him. “Hey, lady. Do me a favor. Put that gun to your head.” Ellen tried to fight it, but she complied. Castiel nearly dropped his own gun. Jake laughed and addressed Sam. “See, that Ava girl was right, once you give in to it, there’s all sorts of new Jedi mind tricks you can learn.”

Castiel refrained from asking what a Jedi was. “Let her go,” Sam ordered.

“Shoot him,” Ellen pleaded.

“You’ll be mopping up skull before you can get a shot off,” Jake warned.

Castiel stamped his foot like a petulant child, and a gust of wind blew. Blessedly, no one noticed the timing. “Let her go,” Castiel demanded a second time.

Jake just smiled. “Everybody put their guns down. Except you, sweetheart.” It wasn’t a compulsion, but they all obeyed anyway, at risk of Ellen’s life. Jake nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jake moved fast, racing to the door of the mausoleum and inserting the Colt into the hole in the wall. As soon as he was distracted, the four men lunged at Ellen, wrenching the gun away from her head.

But it was too late. Whatever is was that Azazel wanted was already in motion. Sam shot Jake three times in the heart. Bobby, Castiel, Dean, and Ellen all watched, horrified, as Jake begged Sam not to kill him, and Sam shot him anyway. Again. And again.

None of them said a thing as they filed past Jake’s dead body and investigated the door, now being pounded on from the other side. The rings of the pentagram were spinning, and all they could do was watch. Castiel tried to tug the Colt out of its slot, but it was stuck.

Suddenly, it stopped. “Oh, no,” Bobby groaned. They all started asking him what was going on at once and he turned around to face them. They all fell silent. “It’s Hell.”

Now that the rings had stopped spinning, Dean was able to easily slide the Colt free. Bobby ordered them to take cover, and they all dived behind tombstones. As the doors rattled, Castiel’s head split open, or so it felt, and he screamed. Dean pulled him close against his chest.

In the aftermath of that battle, Castiel would try to forget many things, but of course, he never did. He remembered that headache, and he remembered the black smoke that exploded from the doors, choking them all for nearly a full minute. He would remember the ruthless look on Sam’s face when he killed Jake, and he would remember Azazel’s last words and cocky smile to him.

Most of all, though, Castiel would remember this: Dean holding him closely like he never meant to let go.

As the smoke cleared to above their heads, Dean coughed and called to Ellen. “What the hell is happening?”

“That’s a Devil’s Gate, a damn door to Hell!” Ellen responded over the roaring of the wind.

Castiel’s headache did not go away. He groaned, clapping a hand to his forehead. “We have to-” he whined, shutting his eyes. “We have to shut the gate.”

Dean nodded and helped him to his feet. “You okay?”

Castiel shook his head but tried to help close the doors anyway. Dean held him back, looking at the Colt. “If the Demon gave this to Jake, then maybe…”

Castiel’s headache spiked, and he fell to his knees. Dean turned around. Castiel heard Azazel’s voice. “See, Dean? So many demons around, and something in him wants to do something about it, but can’t. That pain will go away if you let me have him, Dean.”

Castiel pulled himself to his feet by the hem of Dean’s jacket. “I can make my own choices, thank you.”

Dean pointed the Colt at the Demon, but it was immediately whisked from his hands. “A boy shouldn’t play with Daddy’s guns,” he chided. Dean was sent flying with a wink from Azazel. Castiel tried to run towards him, but found himself unable to move. “Castiel,” the Demon chastised, “you never called me back. How rude. I’m willing to make one final offer, though.”

Castiel kicked him in the crotch, snatching the gun away from him. Then Sam came charging at them, and Azazel pinned him to a tree. “I’ll get to you in a minute, champ, but I’m proud of you. Knew you had it in you.” He turned back to Castiel, the only one standing between him and Dean. “You notice I turned off that nasty headache of yours? Well, I can bring it back, and make it a hundred times worse.”

That was just what he did. Castiel fell to the ground, screaming, and the wind and Sam yelling his name did nothing to help. The world was surrounded in a white haze, and within minutes, that haze took over everything and Castiel fell asleep.

 

\---*---

 

Castiel opened his eyes and propped himself on his elbows just in time to see the ghost of John Winchester fade away. The Demon lay dead next to him, the gates of Hell were closed, and Dean was holding the Colt. He never asked what had happened.

Castiel stood, and Dean threw an arm around his shoulder. The three of them, Dean, Cas, and Sam, gathered around the body of the Demon that had terrorized them for too long. “Well, check that off the to-do list,” Dean joked.

“You did it,” Sam commended in wonder. Dean tightened his arm around Castiel and smiled at his brother. “I didn’t do it alone.”

“Do you think Dad really climbed out of Hell?”

Castiel shrugged with the one shoulder that wasn’t pressed into Dean. “I suppose we did leave the door open for him.”

“If anyone’s stubborn enough to do it,” Dean agreed, “it’s Dad.”

Sam nodded. “Where do you think he is now?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I kind of can’t believe it, Dean. I mean, our whole lives, everything… has been prepping for this, and now I… I kind of don’t know what to say,” Sam confessed.

“I do,” Castiel yawned. “We need to get some coffee.”

Dean snorted. “That’s not what we need to say.” He knelt down by the Demon’s head. “That was for our mom, you son of a bitch.”

Castiel smiled. That was certainly a better thing to say. “For my father,” he added.

“Jess,” Sam concluded. The three of them looked at each other, and then they headed back to the Impala, Ellen and Bobby following.

 

\---*---

 

Sam didn’t get in the car right away, just leaned against the door. “You know, when Jake saw me… it was like he saw a ghost. I mean, hell, you heard him. He said he killed me.”

Dean nodded, shifting his feet. “Well, I’m glad he was wrong.”

“I don’t think he was, Dean,” Sam accused. Castiel folded his arms. “What happened, after I was stabbed?”

“I told you-”

“I wasn’t asking you, Dean. Cas, what happened?”

Castiel hesitated. He’d told Dean he wouldn’t tell, but he didn’t want to lie to Sam. “I…”

“Cas,” both Winchesters pleaded.

He sighed. He had always been a terrible liar, anyway. “Sam, Jake killed you. You were dead, and then Dean went to the crossroads and traded his soul in one year for your life.”

Sam sucked in a gasp, tears springing to his eyes. Castiel knew how he felt. “You- you shouldn’t have done that. How could you do that?”

“Don’t get mad at me, Cas used up more than your fair share, but I had to. I had to look out for you. That’s my job.”

“And what do you think my job is?” Sam countered. Castiel bit back a grin.

Dean had clearly not been expecting that answer. “What?”

“You save my life, over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me, don’t you think I’d do the same for you? Look, in this family,” he said, looking at Castiel, “we look out for each other, all of us. So that means we gotta look out for you. We’re gonna get you out of this, no matter what, right, Cas?”

“Right.”

Dean smirked sadly at the two of them, but he was saved from saying anything by Ellen. “Well, the Yellow- Eyed Demon might be dead, but a whole lot more of them came through that gate.”

“How many, you think?”

“100, maybe 200,” Sam replied.

Castiel scoffed. “With our luck, probably more.”

“It’s an army,” Sam summarized. “He’s unleashed an army.”

Bobby nodded his head at them. “Hope to hell you boys are ready, ‘cuz the war has just begun.”

Castiel and the Winchesters all looked at each other. Dean smiled. “We got work to do.”

Castiel nodded. “At home?”

“At home.”

 

\---*---

 

That night was slow, the house in Denver quiet, just the three of them seated around Castiel’s kitchen table poring over books, not saying a word. Near three in the morning Castiel had had enough. The adrenaline of finding and killing the Demon had worn off, and now he was weighed down with thoughts of Dean, what Azazel had said about his destiny. He supposed Hell was a part of that path to starting the apocalypse.

“I’m going to sleep. Wake me up if you discover anything of use.” Castiel turned on his heel and shuffled down the hall to his bedroom. He was about to open the door when a tentative voice called out from just behind him and a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Cas?”

“Dean. Are you done with research?” Castiel kept his voice even, neutral. As if the thought of the man before him descending to hell didn’t bother him. As if it didn’t set his chest on fire just thinking about it.

“I- yes. Yeah. Cas, I- I wanted to say sorry. Again.” Dean’s gaze seemed glued to his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, his thumb tapping out a nervous rhythm against his collarbone.

Castiel tilted his head the the side, eyes narrowed. Dean had said before that it made him look like a confused kitten. “I’m not sure you mean that, but okay.”

“I do though,” he protested softly, still not meeting Cas’ eyes nor removing his hand. “I don’t… I’m sorry I have to leave you.”

Castiel couldn’t even begin to fathom a response, especially not when Dean’s hand shifted and he moved infinitesimally forward, his palm flat against the side of Castiel’s neck, his thumb still jumping with nerves. Castiel could barely even breathe but he somehow managed to choke out, “It’s fine, Dean. We’ll find a way to save you.”

Dean’s hand moved again, this time to cup Castiel’s cheek, and the intimacy of it was so thrilling yet terrifying that Castiel’s breathing cut out entirely. Castiel remembered a kiss, a kiss in a dark room, long and sweet, that had begun just like this, Dean’s hands cupping his face. Dean’s tapping slowed to gentle caresses of Castiel’s cheek, but still he would not raise his eyes, which were glossed over with barely held tears. “I’m a selfish bastard, Cas.”

Castiel barely recognized his own voice coming out of his mouth, so soft and sure it was. “I think if we take into account everything you’ve been through and everything that’s coming… maybe you deserve to be selfish.”

Then, finally, Dean lifted his gaze to meet Castiel’s for a moment, and something seemed to fall into place as they leaned forward as one, lips meeting in a soft embrace at first, but slowly becoming hungrier as Dean’s hand disappeared from Castiel’s cheek to pin his hips to the door, Castiel’s hands coming alive suddenly to bury themselves in Dean’s hair. “Cas,” he groaned, his hands sliding up Cas’ shirt, pressing at his ribcage and bordering on painful, but Castiel didn’t care much. He dragged Dean’s hips flush his own, and when he bit down on Castiel’s bottom lip, he could feel the moan Dean was holding back.

Unfortunately, they had to come up for air at some point, resting their foreheads against each other, both breathing heavily. Dean broke the silence first. “Cas,” he whispered, a plea, a prayer. “Cas, we aren’t gonna have much time-”

Castiel was hyper-aware of that, but there was never any real guarantee that they had any time at all. “Would we ever? Dean, since I’ve met you, you’ve been on the verge of death at least three times. We hunt monsters, and most times they hunt us back. Those in our line of work don’t usually last long.” Castiel thought of his father and Dean’s, Ash and the hunters in the Roadhouse, and countless others that had died simply for doing their job.

Dean sighed into his mouth, the tension leaving his body. “We- we can take this as slow as you want, Cas. I don’t want you to feel rushed because-”

Castiel kissed him to shut him up and then reached behind him for the doorknob to the guest room, and they stumbled in, arms locked around the other in desperation, in longing, in the knowledge that in exactly one year everything would be gone.

And, maybe, in spite of it all, in hope. Because Castiel did not know if Dean Winchester would be saved. He did not know if Sam would make it back to Stanford for law school. He didn’t know what the Yellow-Eyed Demon had thought was so special in him. What he did know was that, for the time being, he was alive, Dean had some amount of time, and while the world called for their blood, there was, impossibly, hope.  

It would have to be enough.


End file.
